I.':|: 


iis! 


i' 


FROM   THE  LIBRARY  OF 


REV.    LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON.   D.  D. 


iEQUEATHED    BY   HIM   TO 


THE  LIBRARY  OF 


PRINCETON  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 


■■'^   '^■^ 


fev. 


^^  (^^c-tr^^-nc^^:^ 


///-7t 


SEP  23  1931 


MEMOIR 


OF  THE  liATB 


REV.  WILLIAM  CROSWELL,  D.  D, 

RECTOR  OF  THE  CHURCH  OF  THE  ADVENT, 
BOSTON,  MASSACHUSETTS. 


BY     HIS     FATHER. 


NEW   YORK: 

D.   APPLETON   &    CO.,   200   BROADWAY. 

1853. 


'•*  ir'  V 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1853, 

By   H.   CROSWELL, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Connecticut 


INVOCATION. 

O  Almighty  God,  who  hast  knit  together  thine 

ELECT  IN  one  COMMUNION  AND  FELLOWSHIP,  IN  THE  MYSTI- 
CAL BODY  OF  THY  SoN,  ChEIST  OUR  LoED,  GRANT  US  GRACE 
SO  TO  FOLLOW  THY  BLESSED  SAINTS  IN  ALL  VIKTUOUS  AND 
GODLY  LIVING,  THAT  WE  MAY  COME  TO  THOSE  UNSPEAKABLE 
JOYS  WHICH  THOU  HAST  PREPARED  FOR  THOSE  WHO  UN- 
PEIGNEDLY  LOTE  THEE,  THROUGH  JeSUS  ChRIST  OVR  LoRD. 

Amen. 

rCOLLECT  FOR  ALL  SaINTSO 


EEV.  ASA  EATON,  D.  D., 

WHO,  FOR  A  LONG  SERIES  OF  TEARS, 
WAS  THE  CONFIDENTIAL  FRIEND  AND  FAITHFUL  COUNSELLOR  OF 

MY  DEAE  DEPARTED  SON; 

WHO  UPHELD  AND  SUSTAINED  HIM  IN  THE  ARDUOUS 

DUTIES   OF  HIS  MINISTRY, 

AND    WHO    ADMINISTERED    TO    HIM,    IN    HIS    DYING    HOUR, 

THE  LAST  CONSOLATIONS  OF  HIS   CHURCH, 


®l)ig  iilemoir 


IS  MOST  RESPECTFULLY  AND  GRATEFULLY  INSCRIBED 

BY  ms  AFFECTIONATE  FRIEND  AND  BROTHER 
m  THE  GOSPEL 

H.   CROSWELL. 

Reotort,  Xew  Haven,  1853. 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 


Introduction  :  —  ^^°^ 

Materials  for  the  Memoir,     .         .                 9 

Parentage,  Family,  and  Boyhood, 13 

Education  and  Collegiate  Life, 14 

Choice  of  a  Profession, •  21 

Study  of  the  Law, 25 

Annals : — 

1826.  Theological  Seminary, 31 

1827.  Editorial  Employment, 35 

1828.  Ordination  to  the  Office  of  Deacon, 53 

1829.  Christ  Church,  Boston, 68 

Ordination  and  Institution, 71 

1830.  Family  Reminiscences, 79 

1831.  Record  of  the  Year  commences, 88 

1832.  «                         109 

1833.  "                             119 

1834.  «                          134 

1835.  »                             155 

1836.  «                                  176 

1837.  "                             192 

1838.  "                          211 

1839.  "                             225 

Call  to  St.  Peter's  Churcn,  Auburn, 243 

1840.  Resignation  of  Christ  Church, 251 

Parting  Testimonials,          .         .         .         .         •         .         •  253 

Arrival  at  Auburn,         ........  257 

1841.  Record  of  the  Year  commences 269 

1842.  "                             284 

1843.  »                          306 

1844.  Resignation  of  St.  Peter's  Church, 332 

Removal  to  Boston, 335 

Church  of  the  Advent, 337 

1845.  Conversation  with  Bishop  Eastburn, 353 

Bishop  Eastburn  and  the  Church  of  the  Advent,     .        .        •  357 

1846.  Honorary  Degree  of  D.  D.  at  Trinity  College,    ...  387 
Correspondence  with  Bishop  Eastburn, 388 

1847.  Removal  to  Green  Street, 400 

Correspondence  with  the  Clergy, 402 

Correspondence  with  Bishop  Eastburn,       ....  403 

1848.  Correspondence  with  Bishop  Eastburn, 412 

Letter  to  Rev.  Dr.  Baury, 416 

1849.  Correspondence  with  Bishop  Eastburn, 429 

1850.  Correspondence  with  Bishop  Eastburn,       ....  446 

5 


6  CONTEXTS. 

PAGX 

1851.  Last  Correspondence  with  Bishop  Eastburn,     ....  463 

His  Death, 477 

Sermon  for  All  Saints, 479 

The  Funeral, 480 

Character  of  the  Deceased, 481 

The  Commemoration, 514 

The  Monument, 528 

Poetry  :  — 

The  Two  Graves, 16 

Fragment  of  Blank  Verse, 26 

The  Chapel  Bell, 27 

New  Haven, 29 

Sonnets,  by  Asaph  —  Watchman, 35 

"              "            Lent — Confirmation, 36 

"             "            To  the  Hepatica  Triloba,  found  in  March,     .  37 

"              "             Infant  Baptism, 37 

"              "             Washington  (now  Trinity)  College,        .         .  38 
"              "             To  a  Winged  Figure,  by  Raphael,  .         .         .38 

"             "            Christ  bearing  the  Cross,       ....  38 
"              "             Saint  Bartholomew,           .         .        ■.         .         .39 

"             "            The  Knell, ,39 

"  "  Saint  Matthew  —  St.  Luke,      .        .        .         .40 

«             «            The  Knot, 40 

"             "            Christmas, 41 

"             "            Saint  John  the  Evangelist,    ....  41 

«             "            Winter, 42 

"             "            Valedictory, 42 

"         To  Asaph,  by  H., 43 

"          Palinode, 43 

"         Africa, 44 

"         Ordination  of  Jacob  Oson, 44 

"         Death  of  Jacob  Oson, 45 

"         Deatli  of  Rev.  Abiel  Carter, 45 

Hymn  —  Sunday  School  Hymn, 46 

To  *  *  *  *, 47 

Home  —  Stanzas, 48 

"  Drink,  and  away," 49 

The  Ordinal, 53 

Spring,  Sonnet, 55 

Hymn,  First  Sunday  after  Easter, 55 

The  Missionary — Reveille, 56 

Communion  of  the  Sick,  Sonnet, 57 

Saint  James  the  Apostle,  Sonnet, ,57 

Hymn,  Eighth  Sunday  after  Trinity, 57 

South  Sea  Missionaries, 58 

Death  of  Dr.  Feltus,  Sonnet, 59 

Burial  of  Ashmun,  Sonnet, 60 

Hymn  —  Michaelmas,  Sonnet, 61 

The  Seven  Churches,  Sonnet  —  Africa, 62 

Crete  —  Sonnet, 63 

Greece  —  Saint  Thomas, 64 

Christmas  —  Saint  Stephen, 65 

Saint  Paul  —  The  Dying  Year, QQ 

Hymn  for  Advent, .74 

Hymn,  Fourth  Sunday  after  Easter, 75 

Brook  Kedron, 75 

Hymn,  on  reopening  Christ  Church, 82 

Verses  from  a  Poem  Book, 86 


CONTENTS.  7 

i'AGE 

Hymn  for  Christmas  Eve, 86 

Old  North  Cock, 87 

Hymn,  Howard  Benevolent  Society, 88 

On  the  Death  of  an  aged  Servant  of  God, 90 

Clouds, 91 

NightTIiought  — Charity  Hymn, 92 

Saint  Andrew's  Day, 93 

Hymn  for  St.  Matthew's  Day, 94 

Last  Sunday  in  Advent  —  The  Epiphany, 95 

Second  Sunday  atler  the  Epiphany, 96 

Quinquag-esima  Sunday, '       .  96 

Second  Sunday  in  Lent, 97 

To  a  Child  on  her  Birthday, 100 

The  Synagogue, 110 

For  a  Child's  Album, Ill 

In  Memory  of  D.  W., 112 

To  my  Namesake  William  Croswell  Doane,  on  his  Baptism,        .  116 
Ad  Amicum,  Sonnet  on  Bishop  Doane's  Consecration,     .         .        .118 

To  J.  P.  Couthouy,  of  the  Brig  Heber, 125 

Midnight  Thought, 125 

White, 126 

Valentine  to ,         .        .        .        ; 127 

For  Mary's  Bible  —  To  my  Sister, 128 

ToG.  W.  D., ^129 

Sonnet  to  a  Sunday  School  Teacher, 130 

Sonnet,  Exculpatory, 130 

De  Profundis  —  Traveller's  Hymn, 131 

From  the  Antique,  by  the  Name  of  Crosse-Welle,  ....  132 

To  a  Friend,  (Watchcase  and  Thermometer.)       ....  136 
TomyGodson,  W.  C.  D.— W.  C.  D.  toW.  C,     .        .        •         .137 

On  the  Death  of  Dr.  Montgomery, 139 

Nahant, 144 

Fox's  Book  of  Martyrs,  Sonnet, 145 

Africa, 145 

Baptismal  Hymn, 146 

To ,  a  Child, 147 

"  Perennis  et  Fragrans,"  by  G.  W.  D., 148 

To  my  Mother, 150 

Hymns  of  the  Ancient  Time :  — 

Horology,  or  Dial  of  Prayer  —  Midnight  Hymn,         .        .        .  151 

Cock  Crowing  —  Noonday,  ........  152 

Another  for  Noonday,        .         .         .         .         .         .         .  153 

Ninth  Hour  —  Eventide, 154 

Saint  Paul's  Day, 158 

Valentine  —  Valentine  for  "  W.," 161 

To  the  Rev.  Dr.  Coit, 162 

To  a  Lady,  with  a  Sprig  of  Myrtle, 174 

"The  Meeting  of  the  Tribes," 174 

Picture  of  Palestine, 175 

Christ  Church, 179 

Valentine, 180 

To  my  Father, 192 

Sophia, 194 

In  an  Album,  Sonnet, 195 

"  The  Feast  of  Tabernacles," 198 

The  Missionary's  Farewell, 202 

Wheelock  Cottage,  Medfield, 206 

Dedication  of  Hospital  at  Worcester, 208 


CONTENTS. 

PAOE 

Albany, 209 

Valentine,        ...                 212 

Nature  and  Revelation, 215 

The  Liturgy  —  To  Rev.  W.  Croswell,  by  J.  P.  C,  .        .        .        .  216 

On  the  Leaf  of  an  old  Hebrew  Bible, 222 

Sonnet,  written  on  the  Andes,  by  J.  P.  C, 228 

"  This  also  shall  pass  away," 232 

Elegiac,  B.  D.  W., 234 

Prison  Hymn,  by  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots, 235 

Versification  of  Psalms  —  First  and  One  Hundred  and  Thirty-third,  237 

One  Hundred  and  Thirty-fourth  and  One  Hundred  and  Thirty- 
seventh,        238 

One  Hundred  and  Fiftieth, 239 

Saint  John  Baptist's  Day, 249 

Bishop  Hobart,  his  Death, 258 

On  his  approaching  Nuptials, 261 

In  Memory  of  Rev.  Mr.  Lucas, 262 

Lake  Owasco, 263 

Lines  written  in  the  Chamber  where  Bishop  Hobart  died,      .        .  274 

New  Year,  from  the  Desk  of  Poor  Richard,  Jr.,        .        ,         .        .  284 

New  Year's  Musings, 287 

The  Robin  in  Churchyard, 293 

Christ  Church,  Boston, 298 

Christmas  Evening  Pastoral, 304 

"  Houses  of  Worship," 308 

Bishop  Griswold's  Memorial, 322 

Mary's  Second  Birthday, 326 

Elegiac  —  Rev.  E.  G.  Prescott, 334 

Hymn,  Massachusetts  Horticultural  Society,        ....  344 

Hymn  for  Infant  School,  Christ  Church,  Boston,      ....  382 

Sunday  School  Hymn,* 383 

Ad  Amicum,  to  H.  E.  P., 384 

Convocation  Poem, 419 

An  Apology, 439 

*  Inserted  twice,  through  inadvertence ;  see  p.  146 


MEMOIR 


INTRODUCTION. 

The  reader  is  presented  in  this  work  with  an  unwonted  specta- 
cle :  a  bereaved  and  sorrowing  parent  appears  before  the  public  as 
the  biographer  of  a  dear  departed  son  !  At  tlie  age  of  threescore 
and  ten,  this  parent,  admonished  by  a  severe  visitation  of  sickness, 
devoted  as  much  time  as  his  pressing  duties  would  permit  to  the 
arrangement  and  preparation  of  his  own  manuscripts,  for  the  final 
inspection  and  revision  of  this  very  son.  But,  alas !  how  have  his 
fond  anticipations  been  defeated  !  That  son,  on  whom  he  thus 
relied,  by  a  mysterious  providence,  has  been  suddenly  stricken  down 
in  the  midst  of  his  days  and  his  usefulness,  and  numbered  with  the 
dead.  And  now,  with  trembling  hand  and  aching  heart,  the  parent, 
relying  on  the  mercy  and  help  of  God,  undertakes  to  gather  up  the 
materials,  and  prepare  a  record  of  his  life. 

This  is  acknowledged  to  be  an  office  of  great  delicacy,  on  ac- 
count of  the  close  relationship  of  the  parties ;  but  the  difficulty  in 
the  case  is  very  much  diminished  by  the  fact,  that  the  biographer, 
in  prosecuting  his  work,  is  not  thrown  upon  his  own  resources.  It 
is  only  with  regard  to  the  earlier  incidents  of  the  life,  and  the  first 
developments  of  the  mind  and  genius  of  his  son,  that  the  father 
is  compelled  to  rely  on  the  recollections  fondly  cherished  in  the 
family.  Beyond  these  incipient  stages  of  boyhood  and  youth,  there 
are  abundant  materials  among  the  manuscripts  of  the  deceased, 
which  only  require  to  be  faithfully  arranged  and  presented,  to  give 
a  fair  transcript  of  his  history.  With  regard  to  the  use  of  these 
materials,  however,  it  must  be  understood  that  no  greater  latitude 
can  be  allowed  than  may  be  found  necessary  for  the  full  illustration 
of  his  life  and  character. 

I.   His  correspondence,  which  is  very  voluminous,  extends   back 
to  the  earliest  period  of  his  absence  from  home  ;  but  it  consists,  in 
a  great  measure,  of  free  and  famiUar  letters,  designed  only  for  the 
2  (9) 


10  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAMS!   CR0S"\^:ELL. 

eye  of  his  family  and  friends ;  and  no  more  of  this  portion  of  it 
can  be  drawn  from  the  sacred  privacy  of  domestic  confidence,  than 
may  be  made  instrumental  in  bringing  out  the  principal  incidents 
of  his  life,  and  in  exhibiting  the  prominent  features  of  his  charac- 
ter. There  are  other  portions  of  his  correspondence,  however, 
which  cannot,  in  justice  to  himself  and  others,  be  withheld  from 
the  public  eye.  It  must  be  remembered  that  it  did  not  please  his 
heavenly  Father  to  give  him  a  cloudless  life.  With  all  his  meek- 
ness and  gentleness  of  spirit,  and  the  inoffensive  tenor  of  his  walk 
and  conversation,  he  had  the  misfortune  to  encounter  much  that 
was  unkind  and  unjust,  and  especially  from  the  hands  of  one,  who, 
affecting  to  exercise  only  a  rightful  authority  over  him,  forgot  the 
paternal  nature  of  his  office,  and  disregarded  the  common  courte- 
sies of  pastoral  oversight.  In  reference  to  the  full  disclosure  of 
this  portion  of  his  history,  there  must  be  no  reserve.  The  whole 
story  must  be  told ;  and,  happily  for  the  satisfaction  iand  consolation 
of  his  friends,  he  has  left  among  his  papers  abundant,  authentic  and 
official  evidence,  to  vindicate  his  character  from  aspersion,  and  to 
place  his  memory  above  the  reach  of  ungenerous  suspicion. 

II.  From  the  earliest  period  of  his  professional  life,  he  kept  a 
regular  diary.  This  is  little  more  than  a  brief  and  simple  record 
of  his  daily  transactions,  evidently  designed  chiefly  for  reference, 
and  to  aid  liis  own  memory ;  but  it  exhibits  an  immense  amount  of 
pastoral  duty.  It  bears  the  marks  of  a  strictly  private  journal,  and 
is  sometimes  written  in  Latin  and  Greek ;  yet  it  is  interspersed  with 
occasional  reflections  and  explanations,  which  may  serve  to  shed 
some  light  on  the  various  passages  of  his  life. 

III.  Of  poetry,  published  and  unpublished,  he  has  left  a  large 
amount.  Of  the  quality  of  his  poetry,  the  biographer  will  not  trust 
himself  to  express  an  opinion.  He  prefers  to  rely  on  the  judgment 
of  one  who  for  years  had  addressed  him,  and  written  and  spoken 
of  him  as  his  "  next  friend  and  more  than  brother,"  the  Right  Rev. 
Dr.  DoANE,  Bishop  of  New  Jersey,  who,  by  invitation  of  the  vestry, 
preached  a  commemorative  discourse,  in  the  Church  of  the  Advent, 
Boston,  soon  after  his  decease.  This  is  his  recorded  testimony : 
"  His  poetical  contributions  to  the  Episcopal  Watchman  were 
numerous,  in  addition  to  his  invaluable  services  as  editor ;  and  they 
won  for  him  a  high  and  honorable  place  among  the  very  few  to 
whom  the  name  of  Poet  can  be  given.  Every  thing  that  he  ever 
wrote  in  verse  was  strictly  occasional.  It  was  so  much  of  his  heart 
hfe  set  to  music.  He  lived  it,  every  hue.  And  it  was  all  inspired 
at  the  hearth  side  or  at  the  altar  foot.  It  was  domestic  often, 
always  sacred.  He  fulfilled,  in  every  verse,  that  beautiful  sugges- 
tion of  the  skylark  to  the  mind  of  Wordsworth,  — 


MATERIALS   FOR  THE   MEMOIR.  H 

'  Type  of  the  wise,  who  soar,  but  never  roam, 
True  to  the  kindred  points  of  heaven  and  home.' 

In  that  incomparable  modesty  which  set  off,  in  its  mild  opal  light, 
his  virtues  and  his  graces,  he  thought  very  poorly  of  these  admira- 
ble productions,  and  has  half  suggested  the  desire  that  they  may 
remain  still  fugitive.  But  this  must  not  be  suffered.  They  are 
part  and  parcel  of  his  nature  and  of  his  office.  As  he  lived  them, 
so  he  preaches  in  them,  and  will  while  the  gospel  shall  be  preached." 
It  is,  perhaps,  to  be  regretted,  that  the  wish  here  expressed  by  this 
warm-hearted  friend  cannot  be  fully  accomplished.  The  restriction 
of  which  he  speaks  as  "  half  suggested,"  with  regard  to  the  collec- 
tion and  publication  of  this  poetry,  is  more  strict  than  he  seems  to 
imagine.  Among  the  private  papers  of  the  deceased,  this  passage 
is  found  :  "  My  poetry  is  strictly  juvenile,  and  must  never  be  col- 
lected. I  wish  it  to  be  fugitive  and  transitory,  as  the  occasions 
which  produced  it."  But  notwithstanding  this  restriction,  his  biog- 
rapher will  feel  at  liberty  to  introduce  and  interweave  with  the  nar- 
rative large  portions  of  these  poetical  productions,  a  id  especially 
such  as  are  best  calculated  to  illustrate,  and  give  a  liigher  interest 
to  the  peculiar  circumstances  which  called  them  forth.  If  any 
apology  is  deemed  necessary  for  adopting  this  course,  it  may,  per- 
haps, be  found  in  one  of  his  private  letters,  in  which,  speaking  of 
some  manuscript  collections  of  his  earlier  productions,  which  had 
been  placed  in  liis  father's  hands,  he  says  :  "  I  am  glad  you  have 
the  collections.  There  are  several  little  pieces  which  have  never 
been  entered  among  them,  and  others  which  you  may  find  floating 
about,  now  and  then,  in  the  lower  regions  of  literature.  You  must 
take  as  you  can  catch  them,  and  fasten  them  down  like  plants  in  a 
hortum  siccum,  or  butterflies  in  a  cabinet."  And,  in  a  subsequent 
letter  to  his  father,  he  expresses  a  desire  that  his  fugitive  pieces  may 
be  preserved,  not  for  publication  as  a  volume  of  poetry,  —  for  to 
this  he  always  felt  an  aversion,  —  but  for  future  reference,  and  for 
the  gratification  of  his  friends.  Many  of  his  productions,  originally 
published  under  his  own  eye,  had  been  extensively  copied  into 
religious  and  secular  periodicals,  sometimes  with  his  own  signature 
or  initials  attached,  and  frequently  without  any  recognition  of  their 
origin.  Some  few  of  them  had  also  been  inscribed,  by  his  own 
hand,  in  the  albums  of  his  friends,  and  from  thence  transcribed  into 
commonplace  books  and  collections  of  poetry.  And  in  many  of 
these  cases,  they  were  sadly  marred,  either  by  errors  of  the  press 
or  by  slips  of  the  pen.  These  circumstances  alone  furnish  an 
additional  reason  for  desiring  to  collect,  revise,  and  preserve  these 
scattered  fragments.  It  may  be  proper  to  remark,  that  the  reader 
will  find  among  them  many  specimens  not  very  accurately  defined 
by  the  preceding  criticism   of  his  friend  Doane.     His  poetry  was, 


12  MEMOm   OF  WILLLiM   CROSWELL. 

indeed,  almost  without  an  exception,  "  occasional,"  and  much  of  it 
was  strictly  devotional  and  "  sacred."  But  among  the  productions 
of  his  pen,  many  partake  largely  of  other  qualities  ;  and  a  vein  of 
playfulness  and  wit  will  be  found  running  through  several  of  the 
pieces  which  are  here  collected. 

IV.  Of  his  manuscript  sermons,  the  stock  is  large  ;  and  having 
been  carefully  adapted  to  memorable  days  and  occasions,  and  to  the 
seasons  of  the  ecclesiastical  year,  and  methodically  arranged,  the 
publication  of  them,  in  whole  or  in  part,  might  doubtless  prove 
highly  gratifying  to  his  surviving  friends,  who  would  prize  them  as 
an  invaluable  legacy.  But  of  this  gratification  they  are  deprived 
by  his  own  written  prohibition.  The  same  modesty  which  forbade 
the  publication  of  any  of  these  sermons  in  his  lifetime,  led  him  to 
make  the  restriction  permanent.  On  this  point,  nothing  is  left  to 
future  contingency,  or  to  the  discretion  of  his  friends.  Some  allu- 
sions to,  or  extracts  from  a  few  of  the  latest  of  his  sermons,  may 
be  necessary  by  way  of  explanation  or  illustration.  But  beyond 
this,  no  libei  ty  can  be  taken ;  and  every  thing  else  must  remain 
under  the  seal  of  his  prohibition. 

V.  There  is  yet  another  source  from  which  the  biographer  will 
feel  at  liberty  to  draw  the  principal  materials  for  the  completion  of 
his  work.  For  testimonials  of  character,  he  is  not  under  the  neces- 
sity of  relying  on  his  own  judgment.  These  are  abundantly  fur- 
nished under  various  forms,  and  by  different  hands,  in  sermons, 
in  obituary  notices,  in  the  transactions  of  public  and  corporate 
bodies,  and  in  the  familiar  correspondence  of  friends  and  brethren. 
They  are  all  that  can  be  desired  ;  and  these  will  be  employed  with 
entire  freedom.  It  would  be  little  better  than  false  delicacy,  to 
suppress  such  testimonials  on  account  of  their  eulogistic  or  lauda- 
tory quality ;  for,  after  making  every  allowance  for  the  partiality 
of  friendship,  and  for  the  spontaneous  overflowing  of  hearts  recently 
smitten  by  a  sudden  and  appalling  calamity,  the  sentiments  expressed 
by  the  several  witnesses  will  be  found  to  correspond  so  exactly  with 
the  whole  tenor  of  the  life  of  the  deceased,  that  the  adoption  of 
them  by  the  biographer  cannot  justly  be  imputed  to  the  overween- 
ing influence  of  paternal  afifection. 

From  these  materials  the  ensuing  memoir  is  to  be  constructed. 
The  work  is  begun  in  the  fear  of  God,  and  with  the  humble  and 
confiding  hope  that  He  will  be  graciously  pleased  to  guide  the  hand, 
and  strengthen  the  heart  of  his  unworthy  servant,  by  whom  it  is 
voluntarily  undertaken,  and  enable  him  so  to  discharge  this  delicate 
and  difiicult  office  as  to  do  justice  to  the  memory  of  his  departed 
son,  as  well  as  to  satisfy  the  claims  and  expectations  of  his  numer- 
ous surviving  friends. 


1804.1  PARENTAGE  AND  BOYHOOD.  13 


PARENTAGE   AND   FAMILY. 

That  some  passages  and  allusions,  in  the  ensuing  memoir,  may- 
be rendered  intelligible  without  further  explanation,  a  brief  notice 
of  the  parentage  and  family  of  the  late  William  Croswell  may 
be  necessary.  His  parents  were  both  natives  of  Connecticut  ;  his 
father,  Harry  Croswell,  having  been  born  in  West  Hartford,  and 
his  mother,  Susan  Sherman,  in  New  Haven,  They  had  seven 
children,  the  third  of  whom,  William,  was  born  in  Hudson,  N.  Y., 
November  7,  1804.  Neither  of  his  parents  was  born  or  trained  in 
the  Church,  having  descended  from  Congregational  ancestors ;  and, 
owing  to  the  restrictions  of  that  religious  system,  they  were  not 
baptized  in  their  infancy.  On  their  removal  to  Albany,  however,  in 
1809,  the  father,  who  had  spent  several  years  as  the  editor  and 
publisher  of  a  literary  and  political  journal,  carefully  examined  the 
subject  of  the  Christian  ministry ;  and  this  examination  led  to  his 
full  conformity  to  the  Episcopal  Church,  and  he  was  baptized  in 
St.  Peter's  Church,  Albany,  on  Sunday,  July  19,  1812.  The  mother 
and  children  were  also  baptized,  on  the  13th  of  June,  1813.  The 
father  soon  became  a  candidate  for  holy  orders,  and  was  ordained 
to  the  office  of  deacon,  by  Bishop  Hobart,  in  St.  John's  Church, 
New  York,  May  8,  1814.  After  spending  a  few  months  in  charge 
of  Christ  Church,  Hudson,  he  was  called  to  the  rectorship  of  Trin- 
ity Church,  New  Haven,  and  entered  upon  his  duties  in  that  parish 
January  1,  1815.  He  was  subsequently  admitted  to  the  priesthood 
by  Bishop  Griswold,  acting  as  provisional  Bishop  of  Connecticut. 
It  was  here  that  William  passed 

HIS   BOYHOOD. 

On  this  period  of  his  life  it  is  not  intended  to  dwell  at  large ; 
and  it  is  the  less  necessary,  because  his  early  traits  of  character 
were  fully  developed  in  his  Jater  and  more  mature  years.  In  all 
these  respects,  it  will  be  found  that  "  the  boy  was  father  of  the 
man."  The  same  guileless  simplicity  —  the  same  filial  and  dutiful 
affection  —  the  same  conscientious  regard  for  the  truth  —  the  same 
benevolent  disposition  and  amiable  temper  —  the  same  admiration 
of  the  beautiful,  in  nature  and  art  —  the  same  fertile  imagination 
and  vivid  train  of  thought  —  the  same  habit  of  indulging  in  pleasing 
anticipations  —  and,  above  all,  the  same  devout  spirit  —  which  were 
seen  budding  in  his  childhood,  burst  into  full  bloom  in  his  manhood, 
and  constituted  the  abiding  traits  of  his  character  in  all  his  subse- 
quent life.  An  incident  is  related  in  the  commemorative  sermon, 
alluded  to  in  the  Introduction,  which  is  sufficient  of  itself  to  illus- 
trate the   peculiar  transparency  of  his  inmost  thoughts  :   When  a 


14  MEMOm  OF  \\^LLIAM   CROSAVELL.  [1816. 

child  at  school,  he  was  called  up  by  his  master,  and  sharply  re- 
proved for  talking.  "  No,  sir,"  his  answer  was  ;  "  I  was  not  talk- 
ing, but  I  was  just  going  to." 

Books  afforded  him  his  favorite  amusement ;  but  in  the  selection 
of  these  books,  he  generally  gave  a  preference  to  lyric  and  pastoral 
poetJ-y,  and  to  the  rudiments  of  natural  history.  The  Bible,  how- 
ever, was  his  choicest  study  ;  and  having  a  retentive  memory,  the 
historical  parts  of  the  Old  Testament,  and  the  great  leading  princi- 
ples of  the  New,  became  familiar  to  him  in  his  earliest  years. 
Whatever  he  read  was  never  forgotten  ;  and  his  aptness  to  learn 
proved  a  great  advantage  to  him  in 

HIS   EDUCATION. 

He  was  never  a  hard  student,  but  always  a  good  scholar.  He 
acquired  knowledge,  and  mastered  his  lessons,  with  so  much  facility, 
that  it  seemed  to  cost  him  but  little  trouble  ;  and  it  was  often  a 
matter  of  surprise  to  his  fellow-students,  that  he  was  so  ready  in 
his  recitations,  without  any  appearance  of  laborious  application. 
When  the  point  was  settled,  that  his  elder  brother  Sherman  and 
himself  should  prepare  for  entering  Yale  College,  it  was  thought 
expedient  to  remove  them,  for  a  time,  from  the  influence  and  con- 
tagion of  the  city  ;  and  hence  a  private  family  school  was  chosen, 
kept  by  the  Rev.  Elijah  G.  Plumb,  in  a  little  hamlet  situated  in 
the  centre  of  the  town  of  East  Haven,  about  four  miles  from  the 
city.  To  this  lonely  place  Sherman  went  a  few  months  in  advance 
of  his  brother  ;  and  the  letters  which  he  sent  home  he  dated,  at 
the  suggestion  of  his  preceptor,  "  Harmony  Hall."  This  name  was 
alone  sufficient  to  awaken  all  William's  poetic  fancies.  It  struck 
his  ear  with  a  most  melodious  sound.  Harmony  Hall !  his  imagi- 
nation painted  to  him  a  rural  paradise,  surrounded  with  bowers  and 
arbors,  with  trees,  and  shrubbery,  and  flowers  !  He  was  impatient 
to  join  his  brother  in  this  lovely  place.  At  length,  a  certain  Mon- 
day was  fixed  upon  as  the  time  when  his  father  would  accompany 
him  thither.  But  his  ardent  spirit  would  brook  no  delay.  He 
obtained  permission  to  go  on  Saturday,  and  accordingly  set  off"  on 
foot  and  alone,  cheerfully  taking  in  his  hand  his  httle  bundle  of 
clothing.  It  was  a  solitary  road,  and  he  probably  met  few  or  none 
of  whom  to  inquire  the  way.  But  coming  to  an  elevated  point,  he 
descried  before  him  some  of  the  marks  of  a  Connecticut  village  — 
the  meeting  house,  the  tavern,  and  the  store.  He  passed  by  the 
church,  a  plain  and  humble  structure  of  very  small  dimensions,  and 
having  nothing  but  its  round-topped  windows  to  denote  its  ecclesi- 
astical character.  He  inquired  of  a  young  lad  for  the  residence 
of  Mr.  Plumb,  and  the  house  was  readily  pointed  out  to  him.  But, 
in  the  bitterness  of  his  disappointment,  he  doubtless  suspected  that 


1818.1  mS  EDUCATION.  15 

the  boy  had  been  playing  off  a  cruel  joke.  It  was  an  ancient, 
dilapidated  farm  house,  with  a  huge  stack  of  stone  chimneys  in  the 
centre,  while  either  end  drooped  far  below  the  level.  Could  this 
be  Harmony  Hall  1  How  did  his  fond  anticipations  vanish,  as  he 
approached  the  door  !  But  he  had  little  time  for  reflection  before 
he  was  surrounded  by  the  resident  boys,  who,  one  and  all,  with  a 
sly,  significant  leer,  welcomed  him  to  "  Harmony  Hall." 

In  this  retired  place,  the  two  brothers,  with  some  eight  or  ten 
other  lads  of  their  age,  pursued  the  study  of  Latin  and  Greek. 
But  their  preceptor,  however  faithful  he  may  have  been  in  this 
branch  of  his  instruction,  did  not  confine  himself  entirely  to  tlie 
classics.  He  was  an  exemplary  Christian,  an  intelligent  and  zealous 
Churchman,  and  a  rigid  disciplinarian ;  and  he  took  every  favorable 
opportunity  for  teaching  his  pupils  the  prominent  lessons  of  the 
church  to  which  they  belonged. 

On  returning  home,  the  two  brothers  were  placed  in  a  select 
school,  kept  by  Mr.  Joel  Jones,  a  graduate  of  Yale  College,  who, 
while  pursuing  his  professional  studies,  employed  himself  in  teach- 
ing. He  was  a  young  gentleman  of  superior  scholarsliip  and 
pleasing  manners,  and  enjoyed  the  confidence  and  esteem  of  his 
pupils.*  Under  his  tuition,  Sherman  and  William  were  well  pre- 
pared for  their  college  course  ;  and  at  the  commencement  of  1818, 
they  were  both  admitted  to  the  freshman  class  of  Yale  College  — 
Sherman  being  a  few  months  under  sixteen,  and  William  as  much 
short  of  fourteen.  It  was  by  a  singular  oversight  that  William 
was  admitted  at  this  time,  as  the  rules  of  the  college  forbade  the 
admission  of  any  student  under  the  age  of  fourteen.  But  his  older 
brother,  being  smaller  in  stature,  and  being  first  questioned,  having 
satisfied  his  examiners  that  he  was  of  competent  age,  no  ques- 
tion was  asked  with  regard  to  the  younger,  and  he  was  admitted 
upon  the  very  natural  supposition  that  he  was  the   elder  of  the 


*  Of  this  gentleman,  it  is  gratifying  to  find  the  following  pleasant  reminis- 
cence ill  one  of  his  pupil's  letters,  written  after  a  lapse  of  some  twenty  years. 
In  1836,  WiLLL\M,  having  passed  through  his  collegiate  education  and  his  the- 
ological course,  and  having  held  the  rectorsliip  of  Chiist  Chvirch,  Boston,  for 
several  years,  thus  %vrites  to  his  father  :  "  I  see,  by  the  English  papers,  that  the 
old  veteran  divine  and  scholar,  Valpy,  is  dead.  I  feel  as  if  I  had  lost  a  friend. 
I  have  been  reviewing,  of  late,  his  Greek  Grammar.  It  gave  me  a  sort  of  home- 
sick feeling  —  it  recalled  so  vi\ddly  those  golden  days  of  my  childhood,  when  I 
was  first  thoroughly  initiated  into  its  mysteries,  by  a  most  faithful  and  excellent 
instructor,  Joel  Jones,  Esq.  My  pleasantest  recollections  are  associated  with 
those  early  days.  IVIr.  Jones  has  smce  risen  to  great  professional  distinction  in 
Pennsylvania ;  and  when  Sherman  and  I  meet  again,  I  intend  to  talk  with  him 
about  sending  some  token  that  he  stUl  lives  in  our  grateful  remembrance." 
The  professional  distinction  to  which  Mr.  Jones  had  then  risen  led  to  liis  fm-- 
ther  elevation.  He  was  advanced  to  the  bench  in  one  of  the  higher  courts, 
and,  for  a  time,  held  the  office  of  mayor  of  the  city  of  Philadelphia.  Subse- 
quently, he  was  elected  to  the  presidency  of  (jhard  College,  an  office  for  which 
his  superior  hterary  attainments  well  qualified  him. 


16  MEMOm  OF  WILLIAM  CROSWELL.  [1820, 

two.  On  the  same  mistaken  ground,  the  name  of  William  has 
always  preceded  that  of  Sherman  on  the  printed  catalogues  of  the 
college.  While  in  college,  they  had  the  privilege,  in  common  with 
all  residents  in  the  city,  of  boarding  and  lodging  at  home.  This 
afforded  them  many  comforts  and  advantages,  though  it  often  sub- 
jected them  to  serious  inconvenience,  from  the  length  of  the  walk 
and  the  frequent  inclemency  of  the  weather.  The  morning  prayer 
bell,  during  the  shortest  days  of  winter,  preceded  the  dawn  of  day ; 
but  they  were  seldom  or  never  tardy,  either  at  prayers  or  recitation, 
and,  in  every  respect,  passed  through  their  college  life  without 
reproach  or  censure.  They  sought  but  few  acquaintances;  but 
they  formed  some  very  intimate  friendships,  and  these  were  warmly 
cherished,  in  every  instance,  until  dissolved  by  death.  In  the  latter 
part  of  their  college  life,  the  family  suffered  a  very  severe  double 
affliction.  George,  an  elder  brother,  aged  nineteen,  who  had  been 
residing  for  several  years  with  his  uncle.  Dr.  Thomas  O'Hara 
Croswell,  at  Catskill,  was  brought  home  in  declining  health,  and, 
after  a  few  months,  died  of  pulmonary  consumption ;  and  his  little 
sister,  Jane,  then  about  six  years  of  age,  in  three  months  followed 
him  to  the  grave.  These  heavy  bereavements  called  forth,  at  a 
subsequent  period,  one  of  the  most  touching  productions  of  Wil- 
liam's pen,  which  was  first  printed  in  the  Episcopal  Watchman,  in 
1827,  under  the  title  of 


THE  TWO  GRAVES. 

There  is  a  struggle  and  a  strife 

Within  me,  as  I  bid  adieu 
To  all  my  household  friends  in  life, 

And  may  not  say  the  same  to  you, 
But  leave  once  more,  dear  kindred  dead ! 
Your  lowly  tombs  unvisited. 

To  leave  unmarked  the  heaving  waves 

Of  that  still  burial  ground, 
Where  four  long  years,  above  your  graves, 

The  thickened  turf  has  bound  ; 
And  think  that  that  rank-bladed  sod 
May  ne'er  again  by  me  be  trod. 

But  oftener  shall  my  bosom  yearn 
Toward  your  calm  bed  of  ease. 

And  thither  tliought  and  feeling  turn 
In  their  sad  reveries  ; 

And  never  shall  that  cherished  spot 

Be  in  my  stricken  heart  forgot. 


1820.]  COLLEGIATE   LIFE.  17 

The  chain  of  grief,  tirne-drawn  to  length, 

That  binds  me  there  to  both, 
Alas !  it  strengthens  with  my  strength, 

It  groweth  with  my  growth  ; 
And,  even  now,  my  spirit  sinks 
To  drag  its  still  increasing  links. 

When  thou  wast  called  away,  —  the  first 

In  burial  as  in  birth,  — 
I  thought  thy  parents'  souls  would  burst 

At  thy  return  to  earth. 
And  prayed  to  bear  the  grief  alone, 
Nor  add  their  anguish  to  my  own. 

It  was  too  much  to  feel  my  heart 

So  unprepared,  my  brother ! 
With  thee  in  this  vain  world  to  part, 

Or  meet  thee  in  another. 
O,  may  my  peace,  like  thine,  be  made 
Ere  my  cold  corse  is  near  thee  laid, 

While  yet  we  struggled  to  sustain 

The  drear,  soul-sinking  weight. 
The  fatal  shaft  was  bent  again 

At  us  disconsolate, 
And  thou  wast  summoned  next — the  best, 
The  youngest,  and  the  loveliest. 

The  seeds  of  visible  decay 

Were  in  thee  from  that  hour, 
And  thenceforth  thou  didst  pine  away. 

And  wither  like  a  flower. 
O  God  !  it  was  a  grievous  thing 
To  see  thy  bitter  suffering. 

Then  came  the  poignancy  of  woe, 

The  acme  of  distress, 
The  pang  which  parents  only  know 

When  they  are  daughterless  ; 
But  still  they  struggled  on,  and  still 
Submitted  to  their  Maker's  will.  . 

Now  all  that  of  thy  form  survives 

Is  at  thy  brother's  side. 
For  ye  were  lovely  in  your  lives, 

And  death  did  not  divide  ; 
3 


18  MEMOIR   OF  ^\^LLIAM   CROSWELL.  1820.] 

And  all  that  memory  brings  of  thee 
Is  to  my  bosom  agony. 

The  relics  of  thy  golden  hair, 

Thy  books  and  dresses  gay, 
Which  it  was  joy  to  see  thee  wear 

Upon  a  holiday  — 
These  things,  alas !  now  thou  art  gone, 
It  wrings  my  heart  to  look  upon. 

Sometimes  thy  silvery  voice  I  hear 

Where  children  are  at  play, 
But  dare  not  lift  my  eye  for  fear 

The  spell  will  melt  away  ; 
Too  well  I  know  the  grave  denies 
Thy  image  to  my  waking  eyes. 

Still  it  has  been  to  me  a  dear. 

Though  desperate,  delight, 
To  meet  thee  in  my  dreams,  and  hear 

Thee  bless  my  sleeping  sight ; 
And  waking  from  those  visions  vain, 
I've  wept  to  dream  them  o'er  again. 

And  yet,  so  pure,  why  should  I  weep 

Thy  early  death,  sweet  child  ? 
How  might  we  hope  on  earth  to  keep 

Thy  spirit  undefiled  ? 
What  but  thy  prompt  departure  hence 
Could  save  thy  angel  innocence  ? 

"  Yes,  when  I  see,  beloved  child ! 

The  evil  ways  of  men. 
My  soul  is  more  than  reconciled 

To  thy  departure  then  ; "  * 
And  blessings  flow  to  Him  that  died 
That  sinners  might  be  sanctified. 


*  These  four  lines  are  distinguished  by  quotation  marks,  because  they  are 
cited,  as  will  be  perceived  by  the  subjoined  extract,  not  verbatim  but  in  sub- 
stance, and  probably  from  memory,  fi-om  a  beautiful  little  poem,  by  Caroline 
Bowles,  addressed  "  To  a  Dying  Infant :  "  — 

"  I  look  around,  and  see 

The  evil  ways  of  men  ; 
And,  O  beloved  child  ! 
I'm  more  than  reconciled 

To  thy  departiu'e  then." 


1821.]  COLLEGIATE  LIFE. 

Now  thou  art  in  the  Spirit  land, 
Witli  the  lioly  and  the  blest, 

Where  the  wicked  cease  to  trouble,  and 
The  weary  are  at  rest ; 

And  I  am  happy  since  I  know 

That  thou  wilt  be  forever  so. 


In  carrying  out  the  plan,  already  suggested,  of  permitting  the 
subject  of  this  Memoir  to  tell  his  own  story,  and,  as  far  as  practi- 
cable, in  his  own  language,  this  may  be  deemed  a  suitable  time  for 
the  introduction  of  some  of  the  earlier  specimens  of  his  letter  writing. 

During  a  short  college  vacation  in  May,  1821,  he  made,  with  his 
brother  Sherman,  a  visit  to  an  uncle  and  other  family  relatives  in 
West  Hartford.  Their  return  home  is  thus  noted  in  their  father's 
diary,  under  date  of  May  14,  1821  :  "  Sherman  and  William  re- 
turned just  at  evening  from  West  Hartford,  having,  during  their 
absence,  visited  my  sister  at  New  Hartford,  and  formed  an  acquaint- 
ance with  their  cousins  in  both  places.  They  w^alked  home  from 
Newington,  to  which  place  their  cousin  had  brought  them.  The 
distance  is  over  twenty-seven  miles ;  and  being  unaccustomed  to  so 
long  a  walk,  and  having  pushed  on  at  the  regular  rate  of  three 
miles  an  hour,  they  were  excessively  fotigued.  During  the  past  week, 
I  had  received  a  joint  letter  from  them,  written  at  West  Hartford 
on  the  Sunday  evening  previous.  It  gave  me  a  flattering  opinion 
of  their  talents  for  epistolary  composition  ;  and  being  the  first 
which  they  had  ever  had  an  opportunity  to  write,  I  shall  preserve  it 
on  my  files." 

This  letter  gives  an  account  of  their  journey  to  Hartford  by 
stage,  and  their  walk,  for  the  want  of  a  better  conveyance,  to  the 
residence  of  their  uncle  in  West  Hartford,  a  distance  of  five  miles. 
They  were  encumbered  with  cloaks  and  budgets,  and  had  some 
difficulty  in  finding  their  way.  But,  says  Sherman,  in  his  branch 
of  the  letter,  "  After  much  inquiry  and  fatigue,  we  at  length  arrived 
at  a  place,  which  from  the  bridge ,  the  hill,  and  the  elm  tree,  which 
we  have  so  often  heard  of,  we  knew  to  be  the  land  of  our  fore- 
fathers." 

William's  branch  of  the  letter  is  partially  devoted  to  domestic 
relations,  but  not  exclusively.  He  speaks  of  their  going  into  the 
city  to  attend  the  ceremonies  of  the  general  election,  which  at  that 
period  were  remarkable  for  their  pageantry,  and  consisted  in  part 
of  religious  exercises:  "I  believe,"  he  says,  "I  never  saw  so  much 
bustle,  parade,  and  nonsense,  in  all  my  life.  The  multitude  of 
people  was  immense.  A  Mr. ,  (Presbyterian,)  from ,  de- 
livered the  sermon,  from  I  forget  where,  and  I  cannot  refer  to  it 
very  conveniently.  His  discourse  was  an  hour  and  three  quarters 
in  length  exactly,  by  the  watch  ! "     From  this  he  turns  to  personal 


•20  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROS-^TELL.  [1822. 

things  :  "  We  have  made  but  little  progress  in  horsemanship,  as  we 
have  had  but  little  practice.  We  intend,  however,  to  return  expe- 
rienced horsemen,  as  they  have  two  fine,  gentle  horses.  There  has 
been  but  little  pleasant  weather,  and  some  part  of  the  time  I  have 

been   quite   homesick I  really  wish  I  had  a  camera 

obscura  here,  for  there  is  a  most  beautiful  prospect  from  the  top  of 
the  hill." 

During  the  ensuing  college  vacation,  in  the  autumn,  the  two 
brothers  undertook  another  and  much  longer  journey,  and  almost 
wholly  on  foot.  Having  sent  their  trunk  forward  by  a  private  con- 
veyance, they  left  home  on  Tuesday  morning,  and  taking  Ldtchfield, 
Canaan,  Sheffield,  and  other  intermediate  towns  on  their  route, 
arrived  at  Hudson,  N.  Y.,  on  Saturday  evening.  This,  for  young 
pedestrians,  was  no  small  effort ;  but  they  seem  to  have  been  carried 
through,  according  to  William's  account  of  the  matter,  without 
any  harm.  Thus  he  writes,  from  Hudson,  IMonday  morning,  Octo- 
ber 8,  1821  :   "  Dear  Parents :  I  write  to  inform  you  that  we  are 

here,  and   neither  sick   nor   any  wise   fatigued We 

arrived  on  Saturday  evening,  about  six  o'clock,  in  good  spirits,  and 
conceiving  ourselves  to  be  thoroughly  experienced  in  the  pedestrian 
art.  Of  course,  we  have  been  five  days  in  accomplishing  our 
journey,  and  have  averaged  nearly  twenty  miles  a  day.  During 
the  whole  route,  we  have  rode  but  eight  miles ;  yet  our  feet  were 
not  sore,  neither  were  our  hearts  faint." 

The  young  travellers,  after  visiting  their  friends  in  Catskill,  pro- 
ceeded down  the  river  to  New  York,  and  from  thence  in  a  packet 
to  their  home  in  New  Haven,  where  they  arrived  on  the  night  of 
the  20th  of  October.  They  were  now  ready,  on  the  commence- 
ment of  the  college  term,  to  enter  upon  the  last  year  of  their 
academic  life. 

At  this  critical  period,  their  father,  feeling  great  solicitude  for 
their  future  welfare,  addressed  to  each  of  them  a  letter,  dated  Feb- 
ruary 2,  1822,  earnestly  urging  them  to  an  early  attention  to  the 
subject  of  religion.  And  subsequently,  on  the  17th  of  July,  after 
they  had  taken  their  final  examination  in  college,  and  had  been 
recommended  for  the  bachelor's  degree,  he  spent  an  evening  with 
them  in  conversation  on  their  future  pursuits  and  prospects.  He 
did  not  deem  it  his  duty  to  exercise  his  authority  in  directing  them 
in  the  choice  of  their  profession.  In  his  letter,  he  thus  expresses 
himself  on  this  subject :  "  It  is  true,  that  nothing  would  give  me 
greater  pleasure  than  to  see  you  qualified  and  disposed  to  pursue 
the  study  of  theology ;  and  more  especially,  as  it  miglit  be  in  my 
power  to  afford  you  greater  facilities  in  this  pursuit  than  in  any 
other.  But  should  this  ever  be  your  choice,  let  it  be  the  unbiased 
dictate  of  your  own  heart  and  conscience.  Either  of  the  liberal 
professions  will  offer  you  opportunities  for  deep  scientific  and  liter- 


1822.1  CHOICE   OF   A   PROFESSION.  21 

ary  research,  a  taste  for  which,  I  liop^,  you  will  always  sediilously 
cultivate.  In  either  of  these  professions,  or  in  the  fine  arts,  you 
may,  by  assiduity  and  industry,  through  the  divine  blessing,  arrive 
at  a  creditable  degree  of  excellence.  But  be  assured  that  you  can 
do  nothing  well,  nothing  for  your  own  present  benefit  or  satisfac- 
tion, or  for  the  promotion  of  your  future  welfare,  without  laying 
your  foundation  on  the  faith  of  the  gospel,  and  a  love  of  God  and 
his  holy  precepts." 

Tliere  is  no  evidence  that  this  letter  produced  any  special  influ- 
ence on  the  mind  of  either  of  the  brothers.  Sherman  subsequently 
chose  the  profession  of  the  law  ;  while  William,  though  doubtless 
well  qualified  by  his  devout  and  serious  turn  of  thought  to  enter 
upon  theological  studies,  hesitated  for  a  long  time  in  his  choice. 
His  extreme  diffidence  and  distrust  of  himself  led  him  to  shrink 
from  the  high  responsibilities  of  such  a  profession.  There  was  a 
constant  struggle  between  his  inclinations  and  his  fears.  He  felt 
an  ardent  desire  to  prepare  for  the  sacred  office,  but  his  convic- 
tions of  duty  were  not  sufficiently  strong  to  overcome  his  natural 
want  of  confidence  in  his  fitness  ;  and  it  will  be  found,  as  we  pro- 
ceed in  his  personal  narrative,  that  it  was  not  until  a  later  period 
that  he  had  so  far  overmastered  his  scruples,  as  to  present  himself 
for  confirmation. 

Soon  after  their  graduation,  at  the  commencement  of  1822,  the 
two  brothers  opened  a  select  school  in  New  Haven,  and  received  a 
competent  number  of  pupils  from  their  principal  friends  in  the  city. 
This,  however,  was  not  intended  for  a  permanent  occupation. 
Sherman  entered  the  law  school  during  the  ensuing  winter  ;  and 
from  this  time,  the  two  brothers,  whose  interests,  pursuits,  studies, 
amusements  and  diversions  had  hitherto  been  so  intimately  blended, 
were  compelled,  by  the  allotments  of  Providence,  to  part  company, 
as  it  were,  and  pursue  their  way  through  life  by  different  paths.  It 
is  true,  that  their  fraternal  attachment,  which  had  always  been 
exceedingly  warm  and  affectionate,  suffered  no  diminution  by  sepa- 
ration or  distance.  The  old  fountain  of  love  and  sympathy  was 
stirred  up  afresh,  as  ofte^i  as  they  met  or  exchanged  sentiments  by 
letter. 

WiLLiAJi  devoted  much  time  to  reading,  always  giving  the  pref- 
erence to  works  of  substantial  value,  such  as  the  English  classics 
and  the  standard  poets.  He  seemed  averse  to  tying  himself  down 
to  any  steady  pursuit.  This  was  not  the  effect  of  instability  or 
fickleness,  but  arose  from  the  fact  that  his  heart  refused  all  sympa- 
thy with  secular  concerns.  He  spent  some  time  in  travelling  and 
visiting  his  friends,  and  occasionally  sought  some  temporary  employ 
ment ;  but  wherever  he  might  be,  or  however  occupied,  he  found 
it  impossible  to  divert  his  mind  wholly  from  the  one  great  object, 


22  MEMOm   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1823. 

which  was  gradually  working  its  influence  upon  his  heart  and 
conscience. 

He  commenced  a  journey,  with  his  cousin  E.  S.,  to  Catskill,  on 
the  25th  of  June,  1823,  the  particulars  of  which  we  must  gather 
from  his  letters  :  — 

"New  York,  Friday,  June  27,  1823. 

"  Dear  Parents  :  The  day  on  which  we  left  New  Haven  was 
eventually  clear,  cool,  and  comfortable.  The  passage  was  as  yjleas- 
ant  as  a  smooth  sea,  and  good  company,  could  make  it.  As  the 
boat  passed  near  the  northern  shore,  there  was  a  constant  succes- 
sion of  picturesque  prospects.  Highland  and  lowland,  huts  and 
hedgerows,   sandy   banks   and   sunny  meads,  alternately  presented 

themselves Some   half  a  dozen  persons  were  taken 

on  board  at  Stratford  Point,  which  made  the  whole  number  about 
thirty,  all  of  whom  were  polite  and  accommodating.  The  boat 
proceeded  with  the  noise,  as  well  as  the  velocity,  of  the  cataract, 
and  arrived  at  Byram  Cove  *  about  two  o'clock.  Our  thirty  pas- 
sengers were  here  distributed  into  three  vehicles.  The  one  in  which 
I  rode  was  so  crammed,  that  I  expected  we  should  all  be  melted 
into  one  mass  before  we  reached  our  journey's  end.  Fortunately, 
however,  we  arrived  here,  in  good  health  and  spirits,  about  half  past 
six.  I  am  quite  at  home  in  our  boarding  house.  It  is  a  fine,  spa- 
cious building,  fronting  the  Battery ;  its  situation  commanding  all 
the  beauties  of  a  water  prospect,  and  enjoying  all  the  benefits  of 
wholesome  air.  In  the  evening,  I  attended  the  performance  of 
Macbeth,  at  the  theatre.  The  house  was  thin,  and  the  actors, 
as  I  was  informed,  were  not  first  rate.  With  me,  however,  the 
performance  excited  a  deep  interest,  which  was  probably  heightened 
by  the  novelty  of  the  splendid  decorations  and  dresses,  and  the 
beauty  of  the  building." 

This  was,  doubtless,  the  first  theatrical  perft)rmance  that  he  ever 
witnessed,  if  we  except  certain  dramatic  exhibitions  by  the  successive 
classes  in  Yale  College.  In  these  it  would  seem  that  he  sometimes 
figured,  both  as  author  and  actor.  But  the.  scenery  and  decorations 
of  the  stage  were  all  new  to  him.  The  tragedy  alone,  however, 
was  sufficient  to  satisfy  his  curiosity,  and  he  left  the  theatre  before 
the  afterpiece  was  performed.     On  the  following  day,  he  went  with 

*  Byram  Ilivdr,  of  which  the  Cove  is  the  mouth,  is  twenty-eight  miles  from 
the  city  of  New  York,  and  forms  the  boundary  between  the  states  of  Connect- 
icut and  New  York.  The  steamboats  owned  by  independent  companies  were 
compelled  to  stop  and  land  their  i)assengers  at  this  point,  in  compliance  wdth 
a  law  of  the  state  of  New  York,  giv'ing  to  Robert  Fulton,  Esq.,  for  a  term  of 
thirty  years,  the  exchisive  right  of  uaA^igating  the  waters  of  the  state  with 
steam  vessels.  This  restriction  was  afterwards  removed  by  the  United  States 
Court,  and  the  navigation  left  open  and  fi.ee  to  aU. 


1824.]  CHOICE   OF  A  PROFESSION.  23 

his  cousin  to  see  Pcales  Court  of  Death,  and  the  view  of  Versailles, 
at  the  Rotunda.  They  also  visited  the  Museum,  whicli,  at  that  day, 
made  up  the  sum  of  siglit  seeing  in  New  York.  They  next  pro- 
ceeded on  their  way  to  Catskill ;  and,  from  his  account  of  the 
matter,  we  learn  what  a  formidable  affair  it  must  have  been  to  make 
a  voyage  on  the  river  in  the  packets,  which  then  afforded  the  only 
comfortable  conveyance  between  New  York  and  the  towns  below 
Albany  :  — 

"  Catskill,  Monday,  Jime  30,  1823. 
"  Dear  Parents  :  We  embarked  in  the  '  Shakspeare '  on  Fri- 
day evening.  The  weather  was  foul,  but  the  wind  fair.  It  only 
continued  long  enough,  however,  to  carry  us  some  twenty  or  thirty 
miles  during  the  night.  The  next  day,  with  light  and  heavy 
breezes  alternately,  we  reached  Newburg,  and,  on  the  succeeding 
morning,  were  within  twenty-five  miles  of  Catskill  ;  but  a  brisk 
north-wester  prevented  our  arrival  till  five  o'clock,  P.  M.  The 
passage  has  been  pleasant,  the  packet  pretty,  the  captain  civil,  the 
company  capital." 

We  now  pass  on  to  the  ensuing  year.  Early  in  1824,  his  uncle, 
Dr.  Thomas  O'H.  Croswell,  one  of  the  principal  physicians  in 
the  village  of  Catskill,  N.  Y.,  kindly  proposed  to  receive  him  into 
liis  office,  and  give  him  every  facility  for  studying  his  own  profes- 
sion. Could  he  have  reconciled  himself  to  the  idea  of  preparing 
for  a  profession  for  which  he  had  no  taste  or  inclination,  he  might 
have  considered  this  as  a  most  advantageous  offer.  To  reject  it, 
without  due  reflection,  would  have  been  ungracious.  He  therefore, 
without  positively  decUning,  merely  stated  some  reasons  for  hesi- 
tating in  his  decision.  This  called  forth  a  more  urgent  letter  from 
his  uncle,  expressing  his  regret  at  this  hesitation,  and  a  hope  that 
he  might  still  be  able  to  overcome  his  aversion.  He  now  felt  bound 
to  decline  the  offer  altogether.  He  was  doubtless  unwilling  to 
devote  his  time  to  the  study  of  any  other  profession  than  that  for 
which  he  was  evidently  destined  ;  but  he  may  have  had  special 
grounds  of  aversion  to  the  medical  profession.  He  was  once 
induced  to  attend  a  lecture  at  the  Medical  College  in  New  Haven, 
when  it  so  happened  that  anatomy  was  the  theme,  and  a  subject  was 
placed  on  the  table  for  dissection.  He  was  horror-stricken,  and, 
after  a  fainting  turn,  came  home  pale  and  trembling.  This  extreme 
nervous  sensibility,  and  delicacy  of  feeling,  were  his  abiding  char- 
acteristics to  the  end  of  his  life. 

Having  disposed  of  this  offer,  he  next  received  an  application 
from  another  quarter,  and  of  a  very  different  nature.  In  the 
autumn  following,  his  cousin,  Edwin  Croswell,  Esq.,  editor  of  the 
Albany  Argus,  inquired  of  him  what  were  his  engagements,  and 
what  disposition  he  proposed  to  make  of  himself,  in  case  he  should 


24  MEMOm  OF  ^TLLIAM   CROS^\^LL.  [1824. 

not  engage  in  professional  study.  This  inquiry  was  followed  by 
the  proposal,  that  he  should  spend  the  remainder  of  the  fall  and 
winter  in  Albany,  and,  without  making  any  very  definite  arrange- 
ment, should  assist  his  cousin,  either  in  the  legislature  or  in  the 
editorial  arrangements ;  while  lie  miglit,  in  the  mean  time,  devote 
some  leisure  to  the  study  of  law.  This  was  considered  as  a  flat- 
tering proposal ;  and  as  it  did  not  bind  him  to  any  definite  action 
for  the  future,  he  consented,  by  the  advice  of  his  parents,  to  accept 
it.  Accordingly,  after  some  necessary  detention,  on  the  evening  of 
the  8th  of  November,  he  took  his  departure  in  the  steamboat  for 
New  York,  from  whence  he  was  to  proceed  to  Albany.  He  took 
the  earliest  opportunity  to  announce  his  arrival :  — 

"Albany,  Wednesday  Evening^  November  11,  182-4. 
"  Mt  dear  Father  :  The  new  scenes  which  have  been  constantly 
presenting  themselves,  since  I  left  New  Haven,  have  not  so  com- 
pletely dissipated  my  mind  as  to  render  me  entirely  unable  to  collect 
my  thoughts  sufficiently  to  give  you  some  account  of  them.  I  feel 
indeed  that  it  requires  some  effi^rt  to  write ;  but  it  would  require  a 
still  greater  to  be  silent.  Our  passage  to  New  York  was  as  pleasant 
as  rapid  sailing  and  good  company  could  make  it ;  the  number  of 
passengers  being  small  and  select,  so  that  the  arrangements  with 
respect  to  berths,  &c.,  were  unusually  commodious.  We  left  the 
wharf  about  the  gray  of  the  evening,  and  arrived  in  New  York  at 
two  in  the  morning.  As  soon  as  it  was  light,  I  had  my  trunk  trans- 
ported to  the  Olive  Branch,  which  sailed  at  ten  o'clock 

We  passed  the  Highlands  by  daylight ;  and  although  it  was  a  dismal, 
rainy  day,  I  tliought  their  appearance  was  never  more  imposing. 
The  passengers  were  here  likewise  few,  and  the  accommodations 
were  indifferently  good.  We  went  as  rapidly  as  steam  could  draw 
wood  through  the  water,  and  reached  this  place  about  daybreak 
tliis  morning." 

His  cousin  received  him  cordially,  and  had  already  engaged  board 
and  lodgings  for  him  at  a  pleasant  boarding  house,  where  he  had  two 
law  students  for  his  roommates.  It  was  now  suggested  to  him  that 
he  would  be  expected  to  report  the  debates  in  one  of  the  branches  of 
the  legislature,  and  assist  the  editor  in  arranging  the  miscellany  of 
the  Argus.  It  was  also  proposed  that  he  should  enter  his  name  as 
a  law  student  in  the  office  of  a  friend  of  his  cousin.  The  latter 
proposal  was  not  complied  with  ;  and  we  shall  learn,  from  his  next 
communication,  how  soon  the  whole  arrangement  was  relinquished. 
He  addressed  a  letter  to  his  father,  on  the  20th  of  November,  in 
which  he  speaks  of  his  employment  as  taking  occasional  memoranda  ^ 
of  the  legislative  debates ;  and  this  occupied  so  little  of  his  time, 
that  his  hands  are  left  "  full  of  leisure."     He  represents  his  cousin 


1825.]  STUDY   OF  THE   LAW.  25 

as  kind  and  attentive,  his  boarding  house  snug  and  comfortable, 
his  roommates  pleasant  and  agreeable ;  and  yet  he  confesses  that 
all  these  circumstances  are  not  sufficient  to  protect  him  from  what 
he  calls  "  the  hyp"  He  felt,  unquestionably,  that  "  aching  void," 
from  which  nothing  could  relieve  him  but  the  one  thtng  for  which 
his  spirit  was  panting.  He  expresses  a  strong  desire  to  return 
home;  a  measure  to  which,  he  says,  he  is  doubly  induced,  by  judg- 
ment as  well  as  inclination.  He  seems  to  feel,  for  the  moment,  as 
if  necessity  were  laid  upon  him  to  pursue  the  study  of  the  law. 
On  this  subject  he  says,  "  I  begin  to  grow  uneasy  at  the  thoughts 
of  suspending  my  professional  pursuits  any  longer,  I  have  spent 
time  enough  in  the  pleasures  of  desultory  study.  I  do  not,  however, 
regret  that  they  have  detained  me  from  an  earlier  application  to  the 
law  — '  not  taking  thought,'  as  Milton  says,  '  of  being  late,  so  it  gives 
advantage  to  be  more  fit.'  .  .  .  .  As  an  auxiliary  to  Edwin, 
my  stay  is  of  no  sort  of  consequence.  He  would  regret  to  have 
me  leave  Albany,  but  wishes  me  to  consult  solely  my  own  advan- 
tage, which,  I  am  confident,  I  should  do  by  retracing  my  course  to 
New  Haven." 

He  speaks  in  this  letter  of  the  old  rectory  house,  in  which  he 
had  spent  a  portion  of  his  childhood,  as  looking  perfectly  natural. 
"  We  were  shown,"  he  says,  "  into  the  back  room  opposite  the 
library,  in  which  the  stove  and  piano  were  precisely  of  the  same 
pattern  with  ours."  The  remainder  of  this  letter  is  filled  up  with 
pleasant  gossip,  and  with  some  political  hints  and  reflections  which 
would  be  neither  seasonable  nor  profitable  at  this  day,  and  concludes 
with  this  salutation :  "  Give  my  aflfectionate  remembrances  to  the 
whole  circle  of  relatives  and  friends,  '  one  by  one,  according  to  the 
scrip.' " 

To  this  communication  he  soon  received  a  hearty  response  from 
his  father,  and  also  from  his  brother  Sherman,  who  playfully  assured 
him  that  he  would  be  met  "  while  a  great  way  off","  (at  the  end  of 
Long  Wharf,)  and  received  in  all  respects  according  to  the  parable. 
He  arrived  at  home  on  the  evening  of  the  5th  of  December. 

During  the  ensuing  year,  1825,  which  he  spent  chiefly  at  home, 
much  of  his  time  was  given  to  reading ;  but  he  probably  made  but 
little  progress  in  his  law  books.  He  never  thought  seriously  of 
pursuing  the  law  as  a  profession,  and  evidently  took  no  interest  in 
the  study.  He  cherished  his  passion  for  poetry ;  and  it  is  supposed 
that  some  of  the  most  interesting  and  popular  juvenile  productions 
of  his  pen  were  written  at  this  period.  The  following  fragment, 
under  date  of  1824,  is  found  among  his  loose  manuscripts ;  and 
being  in  his  own  handwriting,  and  without  quotation  marks,  it  is  to 
be  presumed  that  it  may  have  been  liis  first,  and,  for  aught  that 
appears  to  the  contrary,  his  last  attempt  at  blank  verse.  It  shows 
he  devout  turn  of  his  mind  at  this  period  :  — 
4 


26  MEMOIR   OF  AVILLIAM   CEOSWELL.  [1825. 

Lord  of  the  Sabbath,  hear  me  —  even  Thou 

In  the  beginning  who  didst  consecrate 

A  meet  proportion  of  the  new-born  time 

To  thy  perpetual  service,  to  assist 

The  deep  infirmities  of  mortal  kind  ; 

Blessing  the  seventh  day  and  hallowing  it 

As  a  memorial  of  thine  own  repose 

From  thy  creative  labors,  and  a  pledge 

And  presage  of  the  glorious  rest  eterne 

Remaining  for  the  Israel  of  God. 

Here  let  me  worship,  as  the  Hebrew  did, 

In  the  serene  of  yon  deep  vault,  ere  Thou, 

Half  veiled  within  the  tabernacle  bright, 

Made  thy  pavilion  in  the  wilderness, 

Amid  the  long,  white  avenues  of  tents. 

The  world's  great  Fathers,  in  those  primal  days. 

Drowned  in  the  abyss  of  ages  which  have  been. 

Made  each  high  hill  their  altar.     Happy  they 

Who  met  together,  at  this  holy  hour, 

Beneatli  some  mountain  palm,  the  place  of  prayei, 

Ere  temple  rose,  or  oratory  cool 

Was  built  fast  by  the  sea  or  river  side 

1824. 

But  he  had  no  ambition  to  see  his  writings  in  print ;  and  until 
he  became,  afterwards,  a  joint  editor  of  the  Episcopal  Watchman, 
very  few,  if  any,  of  them  found  their  way  to  the  press.  An  inci- 
dent may  here  be  mentioned,  to  show  that,  while  his  thoughts  were 
ready  to  flow  in  poetic  numbers,  he  had  no  desire  to  see  them  per- 
petuated by  publication.  He  was  invited,  by  the  corporation  of  the 
city,  to  dehver  an  oration,  as  a  part  of  the  public  exercises  of  the 
4th  of  July.  To  a  youth  of  twenty  years,  this  was  considered  as 
a  high  compliment ;  and  he  was  unwilling  to  refuse.  But  dreading 
the  idea  of  writing  a  prose  oration,  on  an  occasion  which  had  been 
so  often  celebrated  in  this  way,  and  having  no  hope  of  giving  any 
thing  like  an  air  of  novelty  to  the  subject,  he  proposed  to  substitute 
a  poem.  This  offer  was  readily  accepted.  The  poem  consisted  of 
several  hundred  lines,  and  contained  some  brilliant  passages,  and 
was  considered,  as  a  whole,  very  creditable  to  the  author.  He  was 
requested,  in  terms  sufliciently  flattering,  to  furnish  a  copy  for 
publication  ;  but  though  he  had  so  far  overcome  his  natural  diffi- 
dence as  to  deliver  it  with  considerable  animation  and  fluency,  he 
could  not  be  persuaded  to  give  it  to  the  press.  This  poem  is 
probably  lost,  as  no  trace  of  it  can  be  found  among  his  papers. 
He  doubtless  destroyed  it,  lest  it  might,  at  some  future  time,  be 
drawn  from  its  concealment,  and  exposed  to  the  public  eye.  This 
would  have  been  in  accordance  with  his  general  views,  in  respect 


1825.]  EARLY  POETRY.  27 

to  the  publication  of  his  writings,  as  expressed  in  the  restriction 
ah-eady  mentioned  in  the  Introduction. 

How  much  of  his  juvenile  poetry  may  have  met,  first  or  last, 
with  a  similar  fate,  it  is  impossible  to  tell.  A  few  of  his  early 
productions  have  been  recovered,  through  the  kindness  of  his  friends 
and  correspondents.  Some,  especially  those  of  a  serious  or  devo- 
tional cast,  were  subsequently  transferred  to  the  columns  of  the 
Episcopal  Watchman  ;  and  others  may  have  found  their  way  into 
the  periodicals  of  the  day.  If  any  have  been  suppressed,  they  are 
doubtless  those  of  a  lighter  character.  He  sometimes  indulged,  by 
way  of  amusement,  in  strains  of  pleasantry  and  wit ;  but  as  he  had 
no  ambition  to  shine  as  a  facetious  writer,  he  probably  took  no  pains 
to  ijreserve  copies  of  productions  of  this  nature.  It  is  not  known 
at  what  time  the  following  was  written.  Though  bearing  date 
February,  1820,  it  was  communicated  to  his  cousin  E.  S.  at  a  much 
later  period.  He  ascribes  it  to  an  imaginary  character,  Mister  Peter 
Pattieson,  whom  he  calls  his  "  late  lamented  classmate,"  and  affects 
to  be  reminded  of  it  by  hearing  the  chapel  bell  in  the  morning, 
while  on  a  visit  to  New  Haven.  He  begs  his  cousin  to  be  very 
particular  about  showing  it  to  any  body,  lest  it  might  be  supposed 
that  he  had  some  hand  in  the  composition  —  assuring  her  that  "  the 
Rowley  papers  are  not  more  genuine  !  " 

THE   CHAJPEL  BELL. 

FB.OM   THE   MANUSCRIPT   OP  A   LATE   POOR   SCHOLAR. 

"  The  chapel  hell  with  grief  they  heard, 
The  dinner  bell  with  glee." 

Old  Song. 

Dan  Chaucer,  in  my  dreaming  ear 

Methinks  thou  reasonest  well  — 
"  What  jingleth  in  the  wind  so  clear 

As  doth  a  chapel  bell  ?" 
The  tongue,  that  once  roused  holy  clerk 

To  lauds  and  primes,  is  still, 
In  college  towers,  as  hard  at  work  — 

As  lively  and  as  shrill. 

That  chapel  bell  no  ear  forgets 

That  once  its  voice  has  known, 
And  way  of  turning  somersets 

Peculiarly  its  own  : 
Hark !  how  they  follow  round  and  round, 

And  oft  in  silence  dance. 
As  if,  for  very  joy,  the  sound 

Had  lost  its  utterance ! 


lIEMOm   OF  WILLIAM   CROS^^TILL. 

Alas !  old  chapel  bell,  to  me, 

Whose  precious  dreams  are  broke 
By  these  remains  of  Popery, 

Thy  jargon  is  no  joke  ! 
I've  mixed  too  much  with  Protestants, 

And  trust  I  ever  shall, 
To  relish  these  monastic  haunts, 

And  hours  canonical. 

No  hooded  monks,  'tis  true,  meet  there, 

O'er  shrine  of  martyred  saint ; 
But  martyrs  we  to  drowsy  prayer, 

As  lamps  burn  dim  and  faint. 
As  prayers  grow  dull  and  lights  grow  dim, 

More  dull  and  faint  grow  we. 
Till  we  might  well  recite  the  hymn, 

"  Usque  quo,  Domine  !" 

And  duller  yet  that  scene  of  gloom 

Where  students  stretch  and  yawn. 
Pent  up  in  recitation  room 

An  hour  before  the  dawn ; 
Well  may  the  cheek  with  blushes  glow, 

To  think  of  wrongs  then  done 
Thy  injured  shade,  O  Cicero ! 

And  tliine,  O  Xenophon ! 

A  fig  for  all  the  silly  talk 

Of  early  matin  prayers, 
Of  long  and  lone  suburban  walk. 

And  bracing  morning  airs  ; 
If  stomachs  are  unbreakfasted, 

The  case  can  scarce  be  worse ; 
And  if  as  empty  is  the  head, 

'Tis  sure  a  double  curse. 

I'll  bless  my  stars,  which  shine  so  bright, 

When  I  shall  be  no  more 
Compelled  to  rise  by  candlelight. 

But  vote  it  all  a  bore. 
I'll  laugh  as  I  have  never  laughed. 

Nor  dread  the  coming  ill 
Of  meeting  some  protested  draft 

Of  monitorial  bill. 

O,  how  I  grudge  that  graduate's  luck 
Who  has  of  sleep  his  fill. 


1825.1  EAELY  POETRY.  29 

And  snores  like  Captain  Clutterbuck, 

Released  from  morning  drill. 
He  rises  not  at  tuck  of  drum, 

Nor  with  the  daybreak  gun, 
Nor  always,  it  is  said  by  some, 

With  winter's  tardy  sun. 

Like  him,  these  summons  I'll  deride. 

Draw  closer  down  my  cap, 
And,  turning  on  my  other  side, 

Resume  my  morning  nap. 
I'll  linger  for  a  riclier  tone. 

Till  in  the  breakfast  bell 
I  feel,  and  with  the  poet  own. 

Thy  touch,  Ithuriel !  * 

From  the  collections  of  a  friend,  another  specimen  of  his  early- 
poetry  may  be  given.  A  ballad,  without  date,  bearing  the  title  of 
"  New  Haven,"  appears  to  have  been  written  under  the  influence 
of  some  old  college  reminiscences,  and  is  exceedingly  picturesque 
and  grapliic.  Parts  of  the  ballad,  however,  must  be  omitted ;  as 
there  are  some  ludicrous  incidents  alluded  to,  which,  though  suita- 
ble enough  for  a  passing  satire,  it  would  be  hardly  fair  to  perpetuate. 
The  lines  seem  to  have  been  suggested  by  seeing  a  colored  engrav- 
ing of  the  centre  of  the  city  in  a  shop  window. 

A  window  in  a  picture  shop ;  it  brought  all  back  to  me 
The  churches  and  the  colleges,  and  each  familiar  tree  ; 
And,  like  a  sunlit  emerald,  came  glancing  out  between 
Its  pretty,  snow-white  palisades,  the  verdure  of  "  the  Green." 

O,  could  T  write  an  Ode,  like  Gray's,  "  upon  a  distant  view 
Of  Eton  College,"  —  could  I  draw  the  pictures  that  he  drew,  — 
How  would  the  pleasant  images  that  round  my  temple  throng 
Live  in  descriptive  dactyls,  and  look  verdantly,  in  song. 

"  Tres  faciunt  collegium,"  each  jurist  now  agrees ; 
Which  means,  in  the  vernacular,  "  a  college  made  of  trees ; " 
And,  "bosomed  high  in  tufted  boughs,"  yon  venerable  rows 
The  maxim  in  its  beauty  and  its  truth  alike  disclose. 

Not  30  when,  lit  with  midnight  oil,  the  casements  in  long  line. 
Where  more  is  meant  than  meets  the  eye,  like  constellations  shine ; 
And,  "  alma  mater  like,"  the  kine,  from  dairy  fields  astray. 
Make  every  passage  where  tiiey  pass  a  sort  of  milky  way. 


IthTuiel's  whisper  in  the  breakfast  bell." 

N.  P.  Willis. 


30  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CR0S^\T;LL.  [1826 

And  on  the  green  and  easy  slope  where  those  proud  columns  stand, 
"  In  Dorian  mood,"  with  academe  and  temple  on  each  hand, 
The  football  and  the  cricket  match  upon  my  vision  rise. 
With  all  the  clouds  of  classic  dust  kicked  in  each  other's  eyes. 

I  see  my  own  dear  mother  Church,  that  Avarned  me  from  my  sin, 
The  walls  so  Gothic  all  without,  so  glorious  all  within. 
And,  emblem  of  that  ancient  faith  her  hallowed  courts  that  fills, 
Reared  from  the  adamantine  rock,  "  the  everlasting  hills." 

O,  could  the  vista  of  my  life  but  now  as  bright  appear 
As  when  I  first  through  Temple  Street  looked  down  thine  espalier, 
How  soon  to  thee,  my  early  home,  would  I  once  more  repair. 
And  cheer  again  my  sinking  heart  with  my  own  native  air ! 


1826. 


We  now  come  to  an  eventful  year,  1826,  when,  having  passed  liis 
minority,  and  taken  due  counsel,  and  sought  divine  direction,  he 
became  fixed  in  his  purposes,  and,  turning  away  from  all  other 
pursuits,  resolved  to  devote  himself  to  the  study  of  a  profession,  for 
which  he  was,  in  all  respects,  peculiarly  fitted.  He  made  a  full 
disclosure  to  his  father  of  his  doubts,  difficulties,  and  misgivings  ; 
but  with  all  his  fear  and  trembling,  he  felt  such  trust  in  the  help  of 
his  heavenly  Father,  that  he  no  longer  hesitated  in  his  decision. 
Arrangements  were  accordingly  made  for  his  entering  the  General 
Theological  Seminary  in  New  York ;  and  at  the  opening  of  the 
term  in  the  ensuing  autumn,  he  became  a  member  of  that  institu- 
tion. Under  date  of  October  17  and  18,  1826,  he  writes  as  follows : 
"  I  am  here  safe  in  the  seminary  house,  after  a  most  delightful 
passage.  I  counted  about  thirty  passengers  at  table  on  board  the 
Hudson,  and  exchanged  a  word  with  one  or  two  of  them. 
At  half  past  nine,  when  the  boat  was  just  opposite  the  revolving 
light  at  Stratford,  I  clambered  up,  and  laid  myself  to  rest  on  the 
upper  slielf,  spending  the  remainder  of  the  night  in  that  comfortable 
kind  of  repose  vulgarly  called  dog  sleep.  At  half  past  three,  some 
of  the  passengers  might  have  reported  themselves  where  Milton  has 
placed  his  Death  and  Sin,  "  fast  by  Hell  Gate ; "  *  and  in  another 
hour  we  were  at  our  place  of  destination.  I  felt  grateful  to  Him 
who  is  the  Preserver,  as  well  as  the  Maker  of  men,  when  it  was  so  •, 

*  So  this  rugged  pass  was  usually  called,  instead  of  Hurl  Gate. 


1826.]  THE  THEOLOGICAL   SEMINARY.  31 

for  the  tremendous  and  incessant  rumble  of  the  engine  made  me 
aware  of  my  own  insignificance,  and  the  awful  agency  within  whose 
reach  I  lay.  I  could  also  hear  the  waves  gush  and  gurgle  against 
the  side  of  the  boat ;  and  a  sense  of  my  insecurity  occurred  to  me, 
with  the  reflection  that  but  a  few  planks  separated  my  berth  from 
the  billows.  I  rose  at  five,  while  the  moon  was  yet  shining,  and 
had  a  fine  opportunity  to  see  the  morning  gradually  open  upon  the 
harbor  of  New  York.  At  half  past  six  I  started  for  Tripler's,  and 
arrived  there  in  time  for  breakfast.  I  delivered  my  letters,  found  M. 
and  Y.,  and  spent  most  of  the  day  in  unpacking  and  arranging  my 
books.  I  was  not  much  surprised  to  find  that  the  students  all  room 
in  couples ;  and  as  there  was  but  one  vacancy  at  present,  I  have  Hob- 
son's  choice  both  as  to  room  and  roommate.     In  the  latter  respect, 

I  believe  I  am  fortunate.      His  name  is  A .      He  is  in  the  third 

year ;  his  experience  probably  will  be  worth  something  ;  and  his 
manners  seem  to  be  gentlemanly  and  accommodating.  Ours  is  a  back 
room,  high,  small,  and  quiet.  I  understand  that  this  arrangement, 
with  regard  to  apartments,  is  merely  temporary.  In  a  few  weeks, 
I  expect  to  go  in  with  one  of  my  own  class,  probably  G.  .  .  . 
(18th.)  Attended  the  Convention.  The  bishop's  address  was  inter- 
esting, and  disclosed  a  wonderful  amount  of  episcopal  labors.  No 
less  than  nineteen  hundred  and  forty  persons  have  received  confir- 
mation from  this  prelate  in  the  course  of  his  last  visitation. 
To-morrow  I  shall  call  on  Dr.  Turner  and  the  professors  of  the 
institution.  I  doubt  not  that  I  shall  hke  both  the  mode  of  life  and 
the  fashion  of  study.  I  am  gratified  with  the  prospect  of  renewing 
academical  pursuits,  and  hope  the  transition  from  the  study  of  human 
to  that  of  divine  law  will  be  the  period  from  which  I  may  date  my 
years  of  usefulness." 

This  letter  was  immediately  followed  by  another,  under  date  of 
the  19th,  20th,  and  21st  of  October.  He  speaks  of  repeated  attacks 
of  "excessive  bleeding  at  the  nose,"  for  which  he  was  obhged  to 
call  in  medical  aid.  This  complaint  gave  him  a  great  deal  of 
trouble,  from  time  to  time,  in  after  years,  and  may  have  been  indic- 
ative of  the  disease  that  finally  caused  his  death.  Having  delivered 
his  letter  of  introduction  to  Professor  Turner,  he  expresses  himself 
in  terms  of  great  respect  and  esteem,  and  says,  "  I  am  much  inter- 
ested in  the  manner  of  recitation  and  instruction.  The  exercises 
open  with  prayer  ;  the  students  then  translate  passages  by  turns, 
and  expound  and  explain,  with  such  comments,  doctrinal,  critical, 
and  practical,  as  they  can  collect.  These  are  corrected  and  com- 
pleted by  the  professor." 

His  next  letter  is  under  date  of  October  23,  in  which,  in  addition 
to  his  accustomed  allusions  to  domestic  matters,  he  says,  "  This 
morning  I  shifted  my  location  to  one  of  the  most  eligible  rooms  in 
our  boarding  house.      I  anticipate  much  enjoyment  from  the  society 


.'i2  MEMOIR  OF  WILLIAM   CROS^VELL.  [1826. 

of  my  class  and  roommate,  Mr.  G ,  an  amiable  youngs  gentleman, 

from  one  of  the  most  respectable  families  in  Maryland,  and  who  has 
been  a  disciple  of  Mr.  Justice  Blackstone  about  the  same  length  of 
time  with  myself.  As  Falstaft'  says,  '  Would  you  desire  better  sym- 
pathy ? '  .  .  .  Professor  Moore  has  not  been  well  enough  to 
resume  the  recitations  in  Hebrew  since  I  have  been  here,  but  is 
expected  to  commence  again  to-morrow.  I  have  reason  to  hope  it 
will  thrive  vigorously  under  my  cultivation,  if  there  be  any  truth  in 
Butler's  adage,  that 

"  Hebrew  roots  are  always  found 

To  flourish  best  on  barren  ground ; " 

which  I  take  the  trouble  to  repeat  myself,  for  the  express  purpose 
of  depriving  the  squire  of  that  malicious  pleasure.  Remember,  and 
pray  for  yours  always,  W.  Croswell." 

His  letters  follow  each  other  almost  daily  ;  but  they  are  chiefly 
occupied  with  private  and  family  concerns.  From  one,  however, 
of  the  30th  of  October,  a  playful  passage  may  be  cited  :  "  We  are 
yet  in  the  very  rudiments  of  the  Hebrew,  and  our  advances  are 
perfectly  snail-like  and  imperceptible.  If  Professor  3Ioore  was 
not  one  of  the  most  mild  and  unassuming  men  of  learning  in  the 
world,  he  could  never  tolerate  the  stammering  and  blundering  of 
such  full-grown  novitiates  in  the  Hebrew  horn  book.  But  he  is 
Clement  by  nature,  as  well  as  by  name.  It  is  related  of  Hutchins, 
that  he  once  indulged  his  disposition  for  pleasantry  by  playfully 
translating  a  passage  of  Scripture,  '  I  love  Clement  C.  Moore 
{clemency  more)  than  sacrifice.'  " 

During  his  father's  absence  from  home,  while  attending  the 
General  Convention  in  Philadelphia,  he  addressed  his  letters  to 
other  members  of  the  family.  To  his  mother,  under  date  of  No- 
vember 6,  he  says,  "  Bishop  Hobart  held  a  sort  of  convocation  of 
all  the  members  of  the  seminary,  at  his  house,  last  Tluirsday  even- 
ing. He  treated  us  with  great  aftability  and  kindness,  and  I  returned 
much  gratified  with  the  visit.  His  late  charge  to  the  convention, 
entitled  '  The  High  Churchman  vindicated,'  was  this  day  published 
by  the  Swords ;  and  I  have  already  wrapped  up  and  directed  a  copy 
to  the  home  department." 

It  is  pleasant  to  record  this  unaffected  tribute  to  Bishop  Hobart, 
and  especially  in  connection  with  a  publication  which  probably  con- 
tributed, more  than  any  thing  else,  to  settle  and  confirm  this  young 
candidate  for  the  sacred  ministry  in  those  sound  views  of  church 
policy  which  he  carried  with  him  to  his  grave. 

His  next  letters  are  addressed  to  his  brothers,  Sherman  and 
Frederick,  and  are  enlivened  with  his  usual  pleasantry :  "  My 
locks  have  just  been  shorn   by  that  prince  of  haircutters,  S ; 


1826.]  THE  THEOLOGICAL   SEMINARY.  33 

but  I  cannot  perceive  that  my  strength  is  a  jot  abated.     If  you  wish 

to  visit  New  York,  wait  till  your  hair  is  long,  and  let  S do  the 

business.  He  has  made  his  fortune  by  it,  and  ranks  it  among  the 
higher  sciences.  He  seats  you,  on  a  seat  like  a  music  stool,  before 
a  large  mirror,  and,  standing  unmoved  himself,  he  twirls  you  round, 
till  every  quarter  of  the  cranium  comes  under  his  comb  and  scissors. 
During  the  operation,  he  discourses  like  an  oracle  on  phrenology, 
and  tlie  manner  in  which  the  hair  is  to  be  adjusted  to  compensate 
for  any  disproportion  of  the  features.  As  my  visage  is  long,  he 
advises  to  wear  it  flat  on  the  forehead,  to  aid  the  defect  of  breadth ! 
and  yet  I  have  not  fallen  away  in  flesh  since  I  left  home.  If  en- 
gaged, he  turns  your  attention  to  the  paintings  with  which  the  room 
is  adorned,  and  talks  as  scholarly  and  technically  about  the  art 
as  any  connoisseur.  '  That,'  for  instance,  '  is  either  a  Rubens  or 
Correggio  ;  critics  are  not  agreed.  If  it  is  a  Rubens,  it  was  done 
when  he  tinted  highly,  and  imitated  Correggio,  as  was  the  case  when 
he  studied  in  Italy,'  &c.  He  was  pleased  to  compliment  me  on 
my  taste  for  the  fine  arts.  I  might  have  told  him,  I  was  no  great 
judge  myself,  but  that  I  had  a  brother  who  went  about  judging." 

In  a  later  letter,  he  gives  a  graphic  description  of  the  new  sem- 
inary house,  which  was  then  in  progress  of  building.  To  those  now 
acquainted  with  its  condition,  and  the  full-built  streets  around  it,  the 
change  in  about  twenty-five  years  will  seem  marvellous :  "  We  found 
the  edifice  in  a  beautifully-sheltered  and  secluded  spot,  within  a 
stone's  throw  of  the  North  River.  It  is  built  of  irregular  stone, 
and  shows  through  the  trees  like  a  genuine  antique ;  turrets,  but- 
tresses, battlements,  heavy  Gothic  casements,  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing,  conspiring  to  give  it  the  air  of  '  cloistered  solitude.'  We  shall 
probably  take  possession  of  it  early  in  the  spring." 

This  anticipation,  so  far  as  he  was  concerned,  was  never  realized. 
In  his  last  letters  from  the  seminary,  he  discloses  the  fact  of  his 
having  frequent  ill  turns,  speaks  despondingly  of  his  general  health, 
and  expresses  some  doubts  as  to  the  expediency  of  remaining  at 
the  seminary.  To  this  his  father  replies,  under  date  of  November 
23,  1826,  "  With  regard  to  your  continuance  at  the  seminary,  I 
wish  to  leave  it  entirely  to  your  unbiased  judgment  and  inclination. 
If  an  important  advantage  is  to  be  gained  by  it ;  if  you  can  acquire 
there  knowledge  which  is  essential,  and  which  cannot  be  acquired 
elsewhere  in  the  same  time ;  and  if,  every  thing  considered,  you 
think  it  best,  I  wish  you  by  all  means  to  stay.  You  need  not,  in 
this  case,  regard  any  sacrifice  which  I  may  make  in  a  pecuniary  point 
of  view  ;  for  you  may  rest  assured  that  it  will  be  made  most  cheer- 
fiiUy.  My  desire  is,  that  you  should  fit  yourself  for  that  usefulness 
which  your  talents  encourage  you  to  strive  for ;  and  in  whatever 
way  this  can  best  be  promoted,  I  leave  you  freely  to  decide.  Wher- 
ever you  are,  and  under  whatever  circumstances  you  pursue  your 
5 


34  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1827. 

studies,  be  careful  to  cherish  tliat  spirit  of  piety  and  devotion 
without  which  learning  and  talents  will  avail  nothing ;  and  look 
forward  to  your  profession  as  a  scene  of  arduous  labor,  not  to  be 
rewarded  in  this  ^vorld  except  by  the  answer  of  a  good  conscience, 
and  that  peace  of  God  which  passeth  understanding,  and  which  the 
world  can  neither  give  nor  take  away." 

Finding  no  permanent  improvement  of  his  health,  and  being 
threatened  with  a  fever,  he  was  advised  by  his  physician  to  return 
home,  and  relinquish  his  studies,  at  least  until  after  the  ensuing 
Christmas  vacation.  This  advice  was  reluctantly  followed,  but  evi- 
dently not  too  soon  for  his  benefit.  He  was  much  debilitated,  and 
required  the  peculiar  care  which  he  could  not  expect  in  a  large 
boarding  house,  though  his  roommate  was  exceedingly  kind  and 
attentive.  He  soon  recovered  his  strength,  and,  on  the  festival  of 
Christmas,  was  able  to  attend  the  church  in  which  he  was  nurtured, 
and  had  the  privilege  of  receiving  the  holy  communion,  for  the  first 
time,  at  the  hands  of  his  father. 

At  this  period,  another  change,  not  of  his  own  seeking,  aw^aited 
him.  The  Churchmen  of  Connecticut  were  desirous  of  establishing, 
at  the  seat  of  the  new  college  in  Hartford,  a  weekly  journal,  as  the 
exponent  of  the  principles  and  views  of  the  Church ;  and  our  young 
candidate  for  holy  orders  was  selected,  and  earnestly  solicited,  by 
the  bishop,  who  was  then  president  of  the  college,  as  well  as  the 
professors  and  other  resident  clergymen,  to  leave  the  seminary,  and, 
while  still  pursuing  his  theological  studies,  to  assume,  jointly  with 
Professor  Doane,  the  editorial  management  of  this  paper.  This 
offer  was  doubtless  designed  to  hold  out  many  advantages  ;  but  his 
father,  who  knew  experimentally  the  vexations  and  troubles  of  an 
editorial  life,  fearing  it  might  overtask  the  powers  both  of  his  body 
and  his  mind,  very  naturally  objected  to  the  plan.  These  objections, 
however,  were  overruled ;  and  early  in  the  ensuing  year,  he  accept- 
ed the  offer,  and  removed  to  Hartford. 


1827. 


His  correspondence,  at  this  period,  relates  chiefly  to  personal 
matters,  to  his  preparations  for  commencing  the  new  paper,  and  to 
his  pleasant  relations  with  the  associate  editor.  He  writes  with 
great  vivacity,  and  indulges  occasionally  in  his  native  vein  of  pleas- 
antry ;  but  he  is  never  for  a  moment  forgetful  of  the  obligations 
of  his  Christian  profession.  Under  date  of  3Iarch  3,  he  writes, 
"  I  have,  a  second  time,  received  the  holy  sacrament  of  the  body 


1827.J  EDITORIAL  EMPLOYMENT.  35 

and  blood  of  Christ,  and  desire  your  prayers  that  I  may  receive  the 
full  benefit  of  his  atonement,  and  be  prepared  to  meet  him  with 

joy." 

Of  the  friendship  contracted  by  this  editorial  arrangement,  no 
one  can  speak  so  truly  and  so  feelingly  as  Bishop  (then  Professor) 
DoANE  himself.  This  is  tlie  language  of  his  commemorative  ser- 
mon:  "It  was  in  1826  that  our  intimate  relations  commenced;  and 
man  has  never  been  in  closer  bonds  with  man  than  he  with  me,  for 
five  and  twenty  years.  A  letter  from  him  to  a  mutual  friend,  the 
witness  and  the  sharer  of  our  earliest  years  of  happiness,  brings 
down  the  tokens  of  his  unswerving  confidence  and  perfect  love 
within  the  latest  fortnight  of  his  life.  .  .  .  Our  intercourse 
was  intimate  at  once,  and  we  never  had  a  feeling  or  a  thought 
to  part  us." 

The  paper  of  which  he  was  to  assume  the  joint  editorship  was 
entitled  The  Episcopal  Watchman  ;  and  after  some  unavoidable 
delay,  the  first  number  was  issued  on  the  26th  of  March,  1827. 
From  this  time,  his  aversion  to  seeing  his  productions  in  print  was, 
of  course,  removed  ;  and  he  not  only  brought  to  light  some  of  the 
effusions  of  his  pen,  which  had  tlius  far  been  concealed  from  the 
public  eye,  and  confined  exclusively  to  private  hands,  but  he  fur- 
nished for  each  successive  number  of  the  paper,  besides  his  due 
proportion  of  prose  articles,  some  poetical  contributions.  Among 
these,  a  series  of  Sonnets,  under  the  signature  of  Asaph,  will  take 
the  first  place  in  our  selections.  The  following  appeared  in  the 
first  number  :  — 


O  Thou,  whom  slumber  reacheth  not,  nor  sleep, 
The  guardian  God  of  Zion,  in  whose  sight 
A  thousand  years  pass  like  a  watch  at  night, 

Her  battlements  and  high  munitions  keep, 
Or  else  the  Watchman  waketh  but  in  vain. 

Him,  in  his  station  newly  set,  make  strong. 
And,  in  his  vigils,  vigilant ;  sustain 

His  overwearied  spirit,  in  its  long 

And  lonely  round  from  eve  till  matin  song ; 

And  of  Thy  charge  remind  him,  "  Watch  and  pray." 

So,  whether  coming#at  the  midnight  bell, 
Or  at  cock  crowing,  or  at  break  of  day, 

Thou  find  him  faithful,  and  say,  "  All  is  well," 

How  rich  is  the  reward  of  that  true  sentinel ! 

"  Could  it  have  been  any  better,  or  any  different,"  asks  Bishop 
DoANE,  in  his  commemorative  discourse,  "if  he  had  been  premon- 
ished  of  his  course  through  life,  or  if  he  had  written  it  on  the  day 
on  which  his  life  was  closed  1  " 


36  JIEMOIU  OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1827 

The  following  Sonnet  was  next  in  order,  and  appeared  near  the 
close  of  the  Lenten  season  :  — 


LENT. 

The  holy  Lenten  time  is  now  far  spent ; 

And  from  the  muffled  altars,  every  where, 

Full  many  a  warning  voice  has  bid  prepare 
The  Lord's  highway,  and  cried  aloud,  Repent ! 
And  be  your  hearts,  and  not  your  garments,  rent ; 

And  turn  unto  the  Lord  your  God  with  prayer. 
Not,  as  aforetime,  are  the  contrite  sent 

To  sackcloth,  ashes,  and  the  shirt  of  hair. 

Or  knotted  thong  ;  but  consciences  laid  bare, 
And  lowly  minds,  and  knees  in  secret  bent, 
And  fasts  in  spirit,  mark  the  penitent. 

Let  not  the  broken  hearted,  then,  despair ; 
The  siglis  of  those  who  "worthily  lament" 

Their  sins  reach  Heaven,  and  are  accepted  there. 

The  next  evidently  points  to  his  own  conformity  to  the  instituted 
rites  of  his  Church  :  — 


CONFrR:MATION. 

The  white-stoled  Bisliop  stood  amid  the  crowd. 
Novitiates  all,  who,  tutored  to  revere 
The  mitre's  holy  offices,  drew  near, 

And,  after  sins  renounced  and  pledges  vowed, 
Pale  with  emotion  and  religious  fear. 

In  meek  subjection,  round  the  chancel,  bowed, 
To  hallowed  hands,  that  o'er  them,  one  by  one, 
Fell  with  a  Prelate's  thrilling  benison. 

Thou,  who  canst  make  the  loadstone's  touch  impart 
An  active  virtue  to  the  tempered  steel, 
O,  let  Thy  hand  rest  on  them,  till  they  feel 

A  new-born  impulse  stirring^n  the  heart. 

And,  swinging  from  surrounding  objects  free. 
Point  with  a  tremulous  confidence  to  Thee. 


The  Sonnets,  with  one  or  two  exceptions,  are  devotional,  and 
adapted  to  sacred  occasions.  Even  when  he  stoops  to  apostrophize 
an  humble  flower,  his  thoughts  rise  intuitively  to  heavenly  musings. 
Here  we  have  a  striking  example  :  — 


1827.]  EDITORIAL   EMPLOYMENT.  37 


TO  THE  HEPATICA  TRILOBA, 

FOUND    IN    MARCH. 

Why  liftest  thou,  so  premature,  thy  head 

Amid  the  withered  waste,  pale  flower  ?    Say,  why 

Dost  thou,  alone  and  desolate,  defy 
The  year,  yet  unconfirmed,  while  there  is  shed 
No  wholesome  dew  upon  thy  leaf-strewn  bed, 

All  choked  and  matted,  but  the  frost  wind's  sigh 

Is  heard,  at  eve,  thy  chill  slope  rustling  by  ? 
Hast  thou  forgot  thy  time,  or  dost  thou  spread 

Thy  sweet  leaves  to  the  air,  and  smiling  wave 
'Mid  blasted  verdure,  like  the  garland  shed 

By  fond  affection,  o'er  the  early  grave, 
To  breathe  its  bloom  around  the  youthful  dead  ? 

Short  be  their  sleep  in  dust  as  thine,  fair  flower ; 

So  wake  to  life  and  joy  when  past  their  wintry  hour  ! 


In  the  following  he  affects  the  style  and  orthography  of  some  of 
the  older  English  poets.  Whatever  may  be  objected  to  this,  as  a 
matter  of  taste,  it  must  be  admitted  that  it  throws  no  obscurity  over 
the  devout  sentiments  inculcated  ;  nor  does  it  interrupt  the  charac- 
teristic smoothness  and  easy  flow  of  his  versification. 


INFANT  BAPTISM. 

Howe  heavenlie  an  inheritance  is  thine, 

Sweet  babe !  whom  yon  baptismal  groupe  present, 
Nowe  that  the  consecrating  elemente 

Hathe  bathed  thie  forehead,  and  the  crucial  signe 

Is  as  a  frontlet  bounde  between  the  eyne, 
In  token  that  hereafter  thou  shall  be 

A  faithfull  soldier  in  the  cause  divine, 
And,  in  thie  triple  warfare,  manfullie 

Beneath  the  banner  of  the  Crosse  shalt  fighte. 

If  Christe  himself  so  tenderlie  invite 
The  little  children  to  his  heavenlie  fold, 

They  mocke  his  ordinance,  and  doe  despite 
Unto  his  highe  beheste,  who  dare  withholde 

Or  yet  delaye  the  pure,  regenerating  rite. 


38  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1827. 


WASHINGTON   (NOW  TRINITY)   COLLEGE. 

"  In  after  days  shall  come  heroic  youth, 
Warm  from  the  school  of  glory."    With  a  pride 
I  quote  thy  high  prediction,  Akenside, 

In  joyous  hope  to  realize  its  truth, 

Ere  envious  Time  print  his  undainty  tooth 

Upon  these  sombre  walls,  which  then  descried 
'Mid  groves  that  half  develop  and  half  hide, 

Shall  haply  stay  some  loiterer  by  the  flow 

Of  Hart's  sweet  waves,  that  gladden  as  they  glide 

By  wooded  steep,  green  bank,  and  margin  low, 
Till  o'er  his  soul  float  up  in  classic  dream 

The  long-lost  image  of  the  Portico,       * 
The  Sophist's  seat,  fast  by  Ilyssus'  stream, 
Lyceum's  green  retreats,  and  walks  of  Academe. 


TO  A  WINGED  FIGURE  BY  RAPHAEL. 

Whether  thou  gazest  up  to  some  far  isle 

In  the  star-sprinkled  depths  above,  where  live 
The  race  from  whom  thou  art  a  fugitive, 

Unseen,  unheard  from,  for  a  dreary  while ; 

Or  whether  seeking  to  restrain  the  smile 
That  rises  to  thy  lips,  thy  fingers  strive 
To  hide  what  eyes  so  bold  and  bright  contrive ; 

Or  whether  meditating  good  or  guile, 

Thou  restest  on  thine  arm  contemplative  — 
Are  problems  deeper  than  the  thought  can  dive. 

But  if  thy  breast  be  not  a  holy  pile. 

Where  nought  unclean  hath  entered  to  defile, 

Then  Heaven  forgive  thee,  false  one !  and  forgive 

That  I  should  trifle  with  a  theme  so  vile. 


CHRIST  BEARING  THE   CROSS. 

PAINTED    BY   DUNIAP. 

If  thou  wouldst  fortify  thy  young  belief. 
Christian  disciple,  read  with  anxious  look 
The  pictured  comment  on  the  holy  book, 
That  tells  the  sufferings  of  thy  chosen  Chief, 
Nor  let  the  look  be  single,  neither  brief: 


1827.]  EDITOllIAL  EMPLOYMENT. 

That  tortured  eye,  and  countenance  so  meek, 
So  mild,  and  yet  majestical,  bespeak 

The  Man  of  Sorrows,  intimate  with  grief. 
From  him  learn  how  divinity  could  lend 

A  dignity  to  suffering,  nor  disdain 

Art's  utmost  effort  in  one  face  to  blend 

Immortal  fortitude  with  mortal  pain  ; 

And  let  not  faith  despise  the  aid  of  sense, 
Nor  spurn  the  "  pencil's  mute  omnipotence." 


SAINT  BARTHOLOMEW. 

Though  it  were  eminence  enough  to  be 

Enrolled  among  the  apostolic  few, 
Who,  at  their  Master's  call,  devotedly 

Went  forth  his  self-denying  work  to  do, 
This  is  not  all  thy  praise,  Bartholomew ; 

Thou  for  such  fellowship  wast  set  apart. 
By  One  who  saw  thee  from  afar,  and  knew 

Thy  spirit  undefiled  and  void  of  art. 
And  still  the  portrait  which  thy  Savior  drew 

Bears  record  to  thy  singleness  of  heart. 
For  wide  as  Gospel  tidings  have  been  spread 

Throughout  all  tongues,  o'er  continent  and  isle, 
Shall  this  memorial  to  thy  worth  be  read  — 

"  An  Israelite  indeed,  in  whom  there  is  no  guile.'' 


THE  KNELL. 

Not  e'en  thy  heavenly  and  harmonious  swell, 

Calling  to  Sabbath  worship  with  a  sound 

From  tower  to  tower  reverberated  round, 
Can  with  my  spirit  harmonize  so  well 
As  that  sad  requiem,  melancholy  bell ! 

Which  with  unvaried  cadence,  stern  and  dull, 

Tolls  for  the  burial  of  the  beautiful. 
There  is  a  potent  and  a  thrilling  spell 

In  every  solitary  stroke,  to  start 
Long-cherished  thoughts  from  memory's  inmost  cell, 
And  deep  affections  ;  while  each  warning  tone 

That  rests,  'mid  solemn  pauses  far  apart, 
Like  drops  of  water  dripping  on  a  stone. 

Cheerless  and  ceaseless,  wears  into  the  heart. 


40  MEMOIR  OF   WILLIAM   CROSAA^LL.  [1827. 


SAINT  MATTHEW. 

Renouncing  a  vocation  so  abhorred, 

Uncertain  riches  and  the  lust  of  gain, 
How  blest  it  were,  commanded  by  the  Lord, 

While  yet  he  passes  by,  to  join  his  train, 
And  taking  up  his  cross,  to  walk  like  thee  ! 

Nor  be  the  power  of  those  examples  vain 
Which  thine  own  sacred  registries  record ; 
But  written  for  our  learning  may  they  be. 
Read,  marked,  discerned,  digested  inwardly, 

Until  we  see  the  path  of  duty  plain. 
Embrace  the  truth,  and  ever  hold  it  fast. 
And  pressing  onward,  daily  self-surpassed, 

By  comfort  of  that  holy  word,  attain 
The  same  eternal  promises  at  last. 


SAINT  LUKE. 

Blessed  Physician !  from  thy  ancient  scroll 
Can  we  not  draw  some  wholesome  medicine 
To  heal  the  heart  that  sickens  with  its  sin, 

And  cure  the  deep  distemper  of  the  soul? 

Is  there  no  balm  in  Gilead,  to  make  whole 
The  bruised  and  broken  spirit,  and  within 
The  bleeding  bosom  stanch  the  wound,  and  win 

The  stubborn  malady  to  its  control  ? 

Blessed  Physician !  happy  is  thy  dole. 
Whose  praise  hath  in  the  Gospel  ever  been ; 

For  thou  wast  His  disciple  who  could  bring 
Help  to  the  helpless  on  their  bed  of  pain, 
And  from  the  gates  of  double  death  again 

Restore  the  hopeless  in  their  languishing. 


THE  KNOT. 

Holy  and  happy  be  the  wedded  pair. 
Who,  typifying  here  the  solemn  rite 
To  which  the  Bridegroom  and  his  Church  invite 

The  good  in  heaven  hereafter,  hope  to  share 

The  glories  of  his  great  espousal  there  — 
They,  when  he  cometh  at  the  dead  of  night 

In  triumph  with  the  Spirit  and  the  Bride, 


I 


1827.]  EDITORIAL   EMPLOYMENT.  41 

Shall  go  to  meet  him,  with  their  odorous  light 
Well  trimmed  and  burning  steadily  and  bright. 

And  entenng  in  together,  side  by  side. 
In  wedding  garments  robed  of  purest  white, 
And  crowns  of  gold,  and  waving  boughs  of  palm, 

Sit  down  among  the  hosts  beatified. 

Guests  at  the  marriage  supper  of  the  Lamb. 


CHRISTMAS. 

O,  haste  the  rites  of  that  "  auspicious  day, 
.    When  white-robed  altars,  wreathed  in  living  green, 

Adorn  the  temples,"  and  half  hid,  half  seen, 
The  priest  and  people  emulously  pay 

Glad  homage,  with  the  festal  chants  between ; 
And  aisles  and  arches  echoing  back  the  strain. 

The  sylvan  tapestry  around  is  stirred ; 

And  voices  sweeter  than  the  song  of  bird 
Are  resonant  within  the  leafy  fane. 

If,  in  the  fadeless  foliage  gathered  there. 
Pale  nature  has  so  bright  an  offering. 

Where  all  beside  is  withered,  waste,  and  bare. 
What  lively  tribute  should  our  spirits  bring 

To  beautify,  O  Lord,  thy  holy  place  of  prayer  ? 


SAINT  JOHN  THE  EVANGELIST. 


'  The  disciple  wliom  Jesus  loved." 

Gospel  for  the. 


O  highly  favored,  unto  whom  'twas  given 

To  lay  thy  hand  upon  the  golden  keys 

That  ope  the  empyrean  mysteries. 
And  all  the  bright  apocalypse  of  heaven  ! 
Sweet  solace  of  thy  sorrowing  soul,  when  driven 

Into  its  island  banishment  alone. 
Thy  rapturous  spirit  has  been  long  at  rest, 

Partaker  of  the  glories  then  foreshown. 

And  knowing  even  as  thy  thoughts  were  known. 
And  if  to  bide  His  baptism  be  the  test, 

And  drink  the  cup  peculiarly  His  own. 
Then  thou  hast  gained  thy  mother's  fond  request, 

And,  stationed  near  the  everlasting  throne, 
Shalt  lean  once  more  upon  thy  Savior's  breast. 
6 


42  MEMOm  OF  ^VILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1827. 


"WINTER. 

The  moon  and  stars  light  up  their  wintry  fire ; 

And  kindling  with  a  lustre  more  intense, 

As  if  to  quell  the  frosty  influence 
Which  wraps  the  world  in  its  unstained  attire, 
They  draw  our  spirits  heavenward  to  admire. 

Nor  them  alone.     For  in  the  marbled  sky 

Ten  thousand  little  snow-white  cloudlets  lie, 
In  fleecy  clusters  ranged  from  east  to  west, 

Which  meet  the  toil-worn  swain's  exalted  eye. 
As  when  he  sees  upon  tlie  upland's  breast 
His  own  unspotted  flock  at  silent  rest, 

With  all  their  new-bom  mountain  lambkins  by, 
And  to  his  meditative  mind  recall 
The  mighty  Shepherd  tliat  o'erlooks  them  all. 


Having  published  the  foregoing  Sonnets,  under  the  signature  of 
Asaph,  in  the  first  volume  of  the  Watchman,  he  reserved  for  the 
last  number  the  following  Valedictory,  in  which  he  relinquishes  the 
name,  and  modestly  and  gracefully  lays  aside  the  harp  of  the  chief 
musician  of  Israel's  minstrel  king  :  — 


SONNET. 

VALEDICTORY. 

Why  have  I  dared  to  wake  the  sacred  string, 

Silent  for  ages,  fearing  not  to  hold 

High  harping  with  that  glorious  bard  of  old, 
The  chief  musician  to  the  minstrel  king  ? 
Alas !  that  e'er  presumptuous  hand  should  bring 

Dishonor  on  that  borrowed  name,  or  wrong 

The  leader  in  the  service  of  the  song. 
Though  fain  to  make  his  loud  shoshannim  ring 

In  concert  with  the  consecrated  throng, 

Who  in  their  solemn  courses,  all  life  long. 

Kept  Zion's  courts  resounding  with  its  swell, 
So  faint  and  fitful  are  the  sounds  I  fling, 

My  soul  recoils  lest  they  profane  thy  shell ; 

Farewell,  then,  hallowed  harp !  forever  fare  thee  well ! 

Asaph. 


1827.]  EDITORIAL  EMPLOYMENT.  43 

To  this  Valedictory  he  received  a  prompt  response  from  one 
whose  reputation  as  a  poetess  is  now  so  well  established,  and  whose 
name  has  been  so  long  and  so  favorably  known  to  the  public,  that 
we  feel  no  delicacy  in  ascribing  it  to  Mrs.  L.  H.  S. :  — 


TO  ASAPH, 

OCCASIONED   BY   HIS   VALEDICTORY   SONNET. 

O,  not  farewell,  deft  ruler  of  the  lyre  ; 

Sweet  singer  of  our  Israel,  not  farewell ; 
Thou  early  called  amid  the  temple  choir, 

The  glad,  high  praises  of  our  God  to  swell. 
Levite  and  priest,  who  Zion's  anthem  led, 

Had  trembled  if  their  solemn  string  were  mute, 
If  the  soul's  pulse  of  melody  were  dead, 

Or  hushed  the  breathings  of  Jehovah's  lute : 
Wouldst  thou  forego  the  baptism  of  the  skies  ? 

Down  at  the  altar's  foot  thy  censer  cast  ? 
Hide  in  the  earth  a  gift  that  seraphs  prize. 

Yet  '■'■faithful "  hope  to  be  pronounced  at  last '? 
Minstrel,  return !  Resume  the  hallowed  strain  ; 
Repent  thee  of  thy  sin,  and  woo  Heaven's  harp  again. 

H. 

To  such  a  call,  from  such  a  source,  the  young  bard  was  not 
insensible  ;  nor  could  he  find  it  in  his  heart  to  turn  a  deaf  ear  to 
the  sweet  strains  of  the  enchantress.     Hence  the  following 


PALINODE. 


•  Lady,  for  thee  to  speak,  and  be  obeyed, 
Are  one." 


While  I,  adventurous  all  too  long,  retire, 

Expecting  scarcely  pardon,  much  less  praise. 
The  unstrung  chords  what  sweeping  spirit  sways  i 

What  sudden  murmurings  from  the  abandoned  lyre 

Pass  on  the  breeze,  and,  as  they  pass,  expire  ? 
O,  could  my  disproportioned  powers  retain. 
Forever  treasured  up,  that  cherished  tone, 
And  blend,  yet  not  abase  it,  witli  my  own, 
Its  sweet  reproaches  had  not  been  in  vain ; 

Yea,  could  I,  kindled  with  a  kindred  fire, 


44  MEMOm   OF  AVILLIiUI   CROSAVELL.  [1827. 

But  hope  to  catch  the  echoings  of  that  voice 
Which  bids  my  harp  renew  its  feeble  strain, 

How  would  my  bounding  bosom  then  rejoice, 
Nor  breathe  distrust  of  God's  good  gifts  again ! 

Asaph. 

But  these  Sonnets  constituted  only  a  small  portion  of  his  poetical 
contributions  to  the  columns  of  the  Watchman.  A  few  pieces  are 
selected,  which  appeared  without  any  signature,  but  which,  from 
being  found  in  his  manuscript  collections,  are  known  to  be  from 
bis  pen. 

The  first  of  the  two  following  Sonnets  was  written  soon  after 
the  ordination  of  Jacob  Oson,  a  colored  man,  of  middle  age  and 
respectable  talents,  who  had  been  engaged  by  the  Domestic  and 
Foreign  Missionary  Society  of  the  Church  to  enter  upon  the  duties 
of  missionary  in  Liberia  :  — 


Joy  to  thy  savage  realms,  O  Africa  1 
A  sign  is  on  thee  that  the  great  I  AM 
Shall  work  new  wonders  in  the  land  of  Ham ; 

And  while  he  tarries  for  the  glorious  day 
To  bring  again  his  people,  there  shall  be 
A  remnant  left,  from  Cushan  to  the  sea. 

And  though  the  Ethiop  cannot  change  his  skin. 
Or  bleach  the  outward  stain,  he  yet  shall  roll 
The  darkness  off  that  overshades  the  soul, 

And  wash  away  the  deeper  dies  of  sin. 
Princes,  submissive  to  the  Gospel  sway, 

Shall  come  from  Egypt ;  and  the  Morian's  land 

In  holy  transport  stretch  to  God  its  hand : 
Joy  to  thy  savage  realms,  O  Africa ! 


But  this  joyful  anticipation  was  never  realized  in  the  person  of 
Mr.  Oson  ;  for  after  he  had  received  his  outfit,  and  while  making  his 
preparations  for  embarking  to  the  contemplated  field  of  his  future 
labors,  he  fell  into  a  distressing  sickness,  which  in  a  few  months  ter- 
minated fatally.  "  By  this  providential  dispensation,"  says  the  editor 
of  the  Watchman,  "  the  great  cause  of  African  improvement  is  de- 
prived of  a  most  devoted  servant,  and  the  hopes  of  our  society  are  for 
the  present  frustrated  ;  Mr.  Oson  being  the  first  missionary  they  have 
been  al)le  to  obtain  for  this  service,  after  years  of  inquiry.  Until  a 
few  days  before  his  death,  Mr.  Oson  entertained  strong  hopes  of 
being  able  to  embark  in  the  brig  Liberia ;  but  finding  himself  com- 
pelled to  abandon    his   long  and   fondly  cherished  expectations,  he 


1827.]  EDITORIAL  EMPLOYMENT.  45 

calmly  resigned  himself  to  the  will  of  God,  earnestly  praying  that 
other  laborers  might  be  raised  up,  to  enter  into  the  field  to  which 
he  had  been  looking  with  so  much  anxiety."  And  to  this  notice  he 
appended  the  following  Sonnet :  — 


Not  on  the  voyage  which  our  hopes  had  planned 
Shalt  thou  go  forth,  poor  exile,  o'er  the  main ; 

The  savage  glories  of  thy  fatherland 
Shall  never  bless  thy  aged  sight  again  ; 
Nor  shalt  thou  toil  to  loose  a  heavier  chain 

Than  e'er  was  fastened  by  the  spoiler's  hand. 

And  yet  the  work  for  which  thy  bosom  yearned 
Shall  never  rest,  though  sin  and  death  detain 
Messiah  from  his  many-peopled  reign, 

Till  all  thy  captive  brethren  have  returned. 

But  thou  hast  gained,  (O,  blest  exchange !)  instead, 
A  better  country,  and  a  heavenly  home, 
Where  all  the  ransomed  of  the  Lord  shall  come, 

With  everlasting  joy  upon  their  head. 


Still  another  Sonnet  is  selected  from  the  first  volume  of  the 
Watchman,  which  appears  to  have  been  suggested  by  the  death 
of  the  Rev.  Abiel  Carter,  rector  of  Christ  Church,  Savannah, 
Georgia :  — 

As  some  tall  column  meets  its  overthrow. 

And  levelled  in  the  dust  reclines,  at  length. 

In  all  its  graceful  symmetry  of  strength. 
So  manhood,  in  his  middle  years,  lies  low, 
Singled  by  death  from  out  the  stateliest, 

While  yet  he  lifts  his  towering  head  elate. 

And  feels  the  firmer  for  the  very  weight 
Of  all  that  in  dependence  on  him  rest. 
Ah,  why  should  we  bewail  his  present  fall, 

Though  prostrate  now,  and  basely  undertrod. 
If,  at  the  Master  Builder's  final  call. 
He  stand  amid  the  upright  as  before, 

A  pillar  in  the  temple  of  his  God, 
And  from  his  happy  station  go  no  more. 


The  next  two  pieces  are  of  a  strictly  devotional  character :  — 


46  MEMOIR   or  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1827. 


HYilN. 

When  Thou,  the  vineyard's  Visitant, 
To  look  on  thy  degenerate  plant, 

Shalt  hither  take  thy  way, 
And  find  it  green  and  flourishing, 
Curse  not  the  unproductive  thing. 

Nor  to  the  dresser  say,  — 

"  How  long  shall  I,  from  year  to  year. 
Come  seeking  heavenly  frruitage  here, 

And  none,  alas  !  be  found  ? 
In  vain  it  rears  its  leafy  crown 
In  barren  pomp.     Cut,  cut  it  down : 

Why  cumbereth  it  the  ground  ?  " 

Lord,  listen  to  my  earnest  prayer, 
And  yet  a  little  longer  spare 

The  blighting  of  thy  frown. 
But  let  the  gardener  prune  and  dress, 
And  dig  around  its  barrenness. 

Before  thou  cut  it  down. 


SUNDAY  SCHOOL  HYIMN. 

•  Suffer  the  little  children  to  come  unto  me,  and  forbid  them  not" 

Savior !  thy  precept  is  not  hid. 

Nor  is  thy  love  forgot ; 
We  come,  whom  thou  didst  not  forbid. 

And  man  forbids  us  not ; 
To  Thee  we  come,  the  Guide  that  brings 

The  erring  strays  of  sin 
Back  from  their  early  wanderings. 

Thy  fold  to  enter  in. 

To  us  thy  heavenly  grace  impart,  I 

And  let  the  words  of  truth  , 

Be  inly  grafted  in  our  Iieart, 

And  nurtured  in  our  youth  ; 
So  shall  its  strong  and  thrifty  shoots 

From  year  to  year  increase. 
And,  with  thy  blessing,  yield  the  fruits 

Of  righteousness  and  peace. 


1827.1  EDITOIIIAL  EMPLOYMENT.  47 

O,  with  the  seed  thy  sowers  sow 

That  timely  dew  distil 
By  which  we  may  not  only  know, 

But  love  and  do  thy  will. 
So  shall  its  rooted  strength  defy 

The  storms  of  life,  and  spring, 
With  ever-lifted  head,  on  high, 

In  ceaseless  blossoming. 

Though  feeble  is  our  strength  and  weak, 

Yet  do  not  thou  repress 
Their  near  approach  who  early  seek 

Thy  love  and  holiness. 
O,  hear  us,  as  with  one  accord 

Our  grateful  song  we  raise  ; 
And  out  of  children's  mouths,  O  Lord, 

Again  perfect  thy  praise. 

The  following  complimentary  lines  to  a  lady  are  shorn,  in  the 
manuscript  copy,  of  the  last  stanza,  but  are  here  inserted  entire 
from  the  Watchman  :  — 

TO    *     *     *     * 

Lady !   to  whom  belong 

The  will  and  power  to  roll 
The  tide  of  music  and  of  song 

That  overflow  the  soul. 
The  stream  has  passed  away. 

But  left  a  ^littering  store, 
Deposited  in  rich  array 

On  memory's  silent  shore,  ^ 

A  strand  of  precious  things, 

Where  in  confusion  lie 
The  wrecks  of  high  imaginings 

And  thoughts  that  cannot  die. 
O  for  that  voice  alone. 

Whose  full,  refreshing  flow 
Could  on  the  troubled  soul  its  own 

Serenity  bestow. 

Why  should  those  streams  be  mute 

Which  brighten  as  they  roll, 
Nor  in  their  liquid  lapse  pollute, 

But  beautify  the  soul  ? 


48  MEMOIR  OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1827. 

O,  tranquillize,  refine 

The  heart,  till  it  shall  be 
As  in  its  primal  day  divine, 

And  full  of  Deity. 

Among  the  selections  of  the  present  year,  three  other  short 
pieces  may  be  added.  The  first  was  one  of  his  earliest  produc- 
tions, having  been  written  on  visiting  his  parental  home,  after  his 
first  going  abroad  into  the  world.  It  was  addressed  to  his  cousin 
E.  S.,  and  afl;erwards  published  in  the  Watchman,  1828  :  — 


HOME. 

I  knew  my  father's  chimney  top. 
Though  nearer  to  my  heart  than  eye, 

And  watched  the  blue  smoke  reeking  up 
Between  me  and  the  winter  sky. 

Wayworn  I  traced  the  homeward  track 
My  wayward  youth  had  left  with  joy  ; 

Unchanged  in  soul  I  wandered  back, 
A  man  in  years,  in  heart  a  boy. 

I  thought  upon  its  cheerful  hearth. 
And  cheerful  hearts'  untainted  glee. 

And  felt,  of  all  I'd  seen  on  earth, 
This  was  the  dearest  spot  to  me. 


The   next   was  also  probably  an  early  production,  being  founa 
among  his  loose  manuscripts,  without  any  date  :  — 


STANZAS. 

Yon  distant  tower  of  old  gray  stone, 

The  verdure  of  the  trees, 
The  golden  sunlight  o'er  them  thrown  — 

What  fairer  scene  than  these  ? 
The  organ  and  the  Sabbath  bell. 

Blent  like  the  far-off  sea  — 
What  tones  the  raptured  heart  can  swell 

Up  to  such  ecstasy  ? 

To  human  sympathies  the  sight 
Is  dearer  far  within, 


1827.]  EDITORIAL  EMPLOYMENT.  49 

When  all,  on  bended  knees,  unite 

In  penitence  for  sin  ; 
And  heavenlier  far  the  thoughts  they  raise, 

When  human  voices  there 
Swell  high  the  glorious  tide  of  praise, 

Or  breathe  the  contrite  prayer. 


The  following  was  first  published  in  the  Watchman,  and  after- 
wards copied  into  several  of  the  contemporary  periodicals  :  — 


DRINK,   AND   AWAY. 


"  There  is  a  beautiful  rill  in  Barbary  received  into  a  large  basin,  which 
bears  a  name  signifying  '  drlnlt,  and  away,'  from  the  great  danger  of 
meeting  with  rogues  and  assassins."  Or.  Shaw. 


Up,  pilgrim  and  rover! 

Redouble  thy  haste, 
Nor  rest  thee  till  over 

Life's  wearisome  waste. 
Ere  the  wild  forest  ranger 

Thy  footsteps  betray 
To  trouble  and  danger, 

O,  drink,  and  aAvay! 

Here  lurks  the  dark  savage 

By  night  and  by  day. 
To  rob  and  to  ravage. 

Nor  scruples  to  slay. 
He  waits  for  the  slaughter; 

The  blood  of  his  prey 
Shall  stain  the  still  water  ; 

Then  drink,  and  away! 

With  toil  though  thou  languish. 

The  mandate  obey; 
Spur  on,  though  in  anguish ; 

There's  death  in  delay. 
No  bloodhound,  want-wasted. 

Is  fiercer  than  they  ; 
Pass  by  it  untastcd. 

Or  drink,  and  away! 

Though  sore  be  the  trial. 
Thy  God  is  thy  stay; 

7 


50  MEMOm   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1827- 

Though  deep  the  denial, 

Yield  not  in  dismay  ; 
But,  rapt  in  high  vision, 

Look  on  to  the  day 
When  the  fountains  elysian 

Thy  thirst  shall  allay. 

Then  shall  thou  forever 

Enjoy  thy  repose, 
Where  life's  gentle  river 

Eternally  flows ; 
Yea,  there  shalt  thou  rest  thee 

Forever  and  aye. 
With  none  to  molest  thee ; 

Then  drink,  and  away! 

One  or  two  short  extracts  from  his  correspondence  may  here  be 
given,  to  show  the  current  of  his  views  and  feelings  at  this  time. 
They  are  from  letters  addressed  to  a  very  dear  friend,  with  whom 
he  had  been  intimate  from  his  boyhood,  and  who  was  his  classmate 
in  college.  The  first  tells  his  early  impressions  of  the  theatre  : 
"I  cannot  in  conscience  regret  the  loss  of  the  theatrical  entertain- 
ments. I  place  them  foremost  among  those  temptations  of  the 
world  which  I  have  solemnly  and  most  sincerely  renounced,  and 
which,  by  the  grace  of  God,  I  shall  endeavor  to  resist  to  the  end 
of  my  course."  The  next  shows  his  faithfulness  to  his  friend,  after 
having  alluded  to  his  entering  upon  the  enjoyments  of  domestic  life. 
He  recommends  his  attention  to  literary  pursuits,  and  then  adds, 
"  That  these  or  any  other  pursuits  should  engross  our  minds,  to  the 
neglect  of  those  great  and  higher  duties,  from  the  discharge  of 
which  no  situation  in  this  life  can  relieve  or  release  us,  may  God  in 
mercy  forbid.  Without  intending  to  sermonize,  I  cannot  conclude, 
my  dear  friend,  without  suggesting,  that  at  no  future  period  of  your 
life  can  you  probably  so  well  prepare  for  your  responsibilities  as 
a  religious  being  as  at  the  present." 

In  the  capacity  of  editor,  as  in  every  other  occupation  in  which 
he  engaged,  he  labored  with  all  diligence  and  fidelity ;  but  it  must 
not  be  disguised  that  it  was  not  the  pursuit  of  his  choice,  neithei 
was  it  congenial  with  his  taste.  It  brought  him  too  directly  and 
too  constantly  before  the  public.  In  the  course  of  the  year,  he  felt 
some  misgivings  as  to  the  propriety  of  his  remaining  in  this  highly 
responsible  station,  and  once  or  twice  had  half  resolved,  through 
the  solicitation  of  his  friends  in  the  seminary,  and  with  the  entire 
approbation  of  his  father,  to  return  and  finish  his  course  in  that 
institution.  But  he  found  it  impracticable  to  break  up  his  connec- 
tion with  the  paper  without  disobliging  his  friends,  and,  chiefly  on 


1828.]  EDITORIAL  EMPLOYMENT.  51 

this  account,  was  induced  to  remain  at  his  post.  It  was  a  thankless 
office,  and  he  soon  reahzed  all  the  vexations  and  tronl)les  of  which 
he  had  been  forewarned.  He  was  indeed  cheered  by  the  approba- 
tion of  his  friends,  flattered  by  the  coniniendation  of  intelligent 
Chnrclnncn  throughout  the.  country,  and  encouraged  by  liberal 
subscription  lists  ;  but  he  could  not  escape  the  aiuioyance  of  fault 
finders  and  meddlers  ;  and  he  was  subjected,  like  all  other  editors, 
to  the  irksome  labor  of  revising  manuscripts  which,  to  adopt  the 
language  of  a  correspondent,  "  he  was  privileged  to  puiutudte., 
cmapital,  and  ortliogrificatc,  it  being  often  deemed  quite  sufficient 
for  the  authors  of  such  favors  to  communicate  their  ideas,  leaving 
the  editor  to  work  them  into  decent  shape."  But  a  much  more 
serious  difficulty  lay  in  his  way  :  the  professional  duties  of  his  senior 
necessarily  absorbed  a  large  portion  of  his  attention,  and  hence  the 
principal  labor  of  conducting  the  paper  devolved  upon  the  junior 
associate  ;  and  this,  in  addition  to  the  original  contributions  of  his 
pen,  consumed  so  much  of  his  time,  that  the  systematic  pursuit  of 
his  theological  studies  was  materially  interrupted.  He  was  in  the 
midst  of  books,  and  surrounded  by  clerical  counsellors,  and  warmer 
friends  could  nowhere  be  found.  But  though  gaining  a  general 
knowledge  of  books,  and  learning  something  of  men,  he  felt  the 
want  of  a  regular  course  of  preparatory  instruction  in  his  antici- 
pated profession.  Still,  influenced  by  the  considerations  already 
mentioned,  and  especially  by  his  personal  regard  for  his  friend  the 
professor,  who  had  already  won  his  entire  confidence  and  secuied 
his  warmest  aftections,  he  entered  into  engagements  for  another 
year.  It  will  be  seen,  however,  that  this  arrangement  was  soon 
virtually  interrupted  by  a  change  of  the  residence  of  the  senior 
editor.  In  the  fourth  number  of  the  new  volume,  the  unanimous 
election  of  Professor  Doane  as  assistant  minister  of  Trinity  Church, 
Boston,  was  announced  ;  and  having  subsequently  resigned  his  pro- 
fessorship in  the  college,  he  removed  to  Boston.  ■  He  did  not,  it  is 
true,  entirely  relinquish  his  interest  in  the  paper,  but  the  association 
was  nominally  kept  up  to  the  end  of  the  volume. 


1828. 

Notwithstanding  the  arrangement  with  his  friend  Doane,  the 
innnediate  care  and  entire  responsibility  of  conducting  the  Watch- 
man devolved  upon  the  junior  associate.  This  alone  was  a  severe 
tax  up(m  his  energies  ;  but  it  did  not  constitute  the  whole  sum  of 
his  labors. 

In  the  midst   of  his   editorial   cares,  in   the   summer  and   aulunm 


52  MEMOIR   OF  ^^T[LLIAM   CROS^^^ELL.  [1828. 

of  18*28,  he  was  called,  in  the  course  of  providence,  to  a  foretaste 
of  some  of  those  trying  scenes  to  whicli  he  was  to  become  famil- 
iarized in  the  subsequent  stages  of  his  professional  life.  His  uncle, 
Seth  Goodwin,  Es([.,  of  West  Hartford,  at  whose  residence  he  liad 
spent  many  happy  days  in  his  boyhood,  and  for  whom  he  felt  a 
strong  attachment,  was  taken  dangerously  sick  with  a  malignant 
fever,  and  his  dwelling  had  become  a  scene  of  great  suffering  and 
affliction.  He  hastened  at  once  to  the  place,  and  during  the  whole 
period  of  the  long  and  distressing  illness  of  his  uncle,  he  was  unre- 
mitting in  his  visits  and  attentions,  frequently  making  the  journey 
of  five  miles  on  foot,  sometimes  remaining  and  watching  for  whole 
nights,  and  greatly  contributing  by  his  sympathy  and  condolence  to 
the  comfort  of  the  family.  The  disease  terminated  fatally,  after  a 
period  of  some  sixty  days.  But  the  trials  of  the  family  did  not 
end  here,  and  this  sore  affliction  was  followed  by  a  new  series  of 
troubles.  Owing  to  their  care,  and  watching,  and  anxiety,  together 
with  the  infectious  nature  of  the  disease,  all  the  surviving  members 
of  the  family  were  more  or  less  affected,  and  two  of  them  barely 
escaped  a  fatal  result.  His  feelings  were  deeply  interested  in  these 
scenes ;  and  his  letters,  written  almost  daily  to  his  parents,  bore 
ample  testimony  to  the  kind  sympathies  of  his  nature,  and  gave  a 
sure  earnest  of  his  future  faithfulness  in  the  discharge  of  those 
duties,  which,  though  the  most  painful,  are  among  the  most  orna- 
mental and  admirable  of  a  pastor's  office. 

While  thus  pursuing  his  course,  and  long  before  the  expiration 
of  this  engagement,  circumstances  began  to  transpire  which  plainly 
indicated  that  he  was  to  enter,  much  sooner  than  he  had  anticipated, 
upon  his  more  appropriate  field  of  labor.  The  settlement  of  his 
friend  Doane  at  Boston  led,  almost  inmiediately,  to  some  overtures 
for  his  removal  to  the  same  vicinity.  As  early  as  October,  1828,  he 
had  a  conference  with  his  father  on  the  subject,  in  which  such 
arguments  were  employed  as  might  be  most  likely  to  dissuade  him 
from  any  hasty  engagement  to  remove.  He  was  told  tliat,  in  gen- 
eral, it  was  bad  policy  for  a  young  preacher  to  make  his  debut  in 
a  large  city,  or  among  very  critical  hearers.  He  would  naturally 
feel  conscious  of  his  want  of  strength  and  skill,  and  of  tlie  danger 
of  going  forth  to  battle  in  armor  that  he  had  never  proved.  He 
would  meet  much  to  discourage  and  dishearten  him,  and  might 
remain  always  in  the  background,  without  any  success  in  his  min- 
istry. It  was  thought  much  better  for  the  young  beginner  to  go 
into  some  quiet  and  retired  spot,  and  there  plume  his  wings,  and 
try  liis  strength,  and  prepare  for  more  venturous  flights  when  he 
had  acquired  the  knowledge  and  experience  necessary  to  secure 
success.  These  arguments,  whether  sound  or  not,  probably  had 
their  influence  at  the  time  ;  for,  in  several  subsequent  commu- 
nications to  his  father,  he  evidently  adopted  similar  opinions.     It 


1828.]  ORDIXATIOX.  53 

was  foreseen,  however,  that  his  strong  attachment  to  his  friend,  the 
hite  professor,  would  bias  his  mind  in  favor  of  his  suggestions,  and 
draw  him  into  such  new  associations  as  he  might  propose.  But  the 
editorial  chair  could  not  be  reliiuiuished  till  the  end  of  the  volume, 
without  subjecting  the  acting  editor  to  censure.  It  was  finally  con- 
cluded, therefore,  that  he  should  prepare  himself  for  his  remaining 
examinations,  and  take  deacon's  orders  as  soon  as  the  standing 
committee  should  be  satisfied  of  his  qualifications.  All  these  pre- 
liminaries having  been  complied  with,  he  was  ordained  deacon,  in 
Trinity  Churcii,  New  Haven,  by  the  Right  Rev.  Bishop  Brownell, 
on  the  third  Sunday  after  Epiphany,  being  the  feast  of  the  Conver- 
sion of  St.  Paul.  This  solemn  occasion  called  forth  from  his  pen 
one  of  his  most  admired  productions  ;  — 


THE   ORDINAL. 

Alas  for  me  could  I  forget 

The  memory  of  that  day 
Which  fills  my  waking  thoughts,  nor  yet 

E'en  sleep  can  take  away  ; 
In  dreams  I  still  renew  the  rites 

Whose  strong  but  mystic  chain 
The  spirit  to  its  God  unites, 

And  none  can  part  again. 

How  oft,  the  Bishop's  form  I  see. 

And  hear  that  thrilling  tone 
Demanding,  with  authority. 

The  heart  for  God  alone  ! 
Again  I  kneel  as  then  I  knelt. 

While  he  above  me  stands. 
And  seem  to  feel  as  then  I  felt 

The  pressure  of  his  hands. 

Again  the  priests,  in  meek  array, 

As  my  weak  spirit  fails. 
Beside  me  bend  them  down  to  pray 

Before  the  chancel  rails  ; 
As  then,  the  sacramental  host 

Of  God's  elect  are  by, 
When  many  a  voice  its  utterance  lost, 

And  tears  dimmed  many  an  eye. 


As  then  they  on  my  vision  rose, 
The  vaulted  aisles  I  see. 


54  MEMOIR   OF  AVILLIAM   CROS^VELL.  [1828. 

And  desk  and  cushioned  book  repose 

In  solemn  sanctity ; 
The  mitre  o'er  the  marble  niche, 

The  broken  crook  and  key, 
That  from  a  Bishop's  tomb  shone  rich 

With  polished  tracery  ;  * 

The  hangings,  the  baptismal  font,  — 

All,  all,  save  me,  unchanged, — 
The  holy  table,  as  was  wont. 

With  decency  arranged  ; 
The  linen  cloth,  the  plate,  the  cup, 

Beneath  their  covering  shine, 
Ere  priestly  hands  are  lifted  up 

To  bless  the  bread  and  wine. 

The  solemn  ceremonial  past. 

And  I  am  set  apart 
To  serve  the  Lord,  from  first  to  last, 

With  undivided  heart. 
And  I  have  sworn,  with  pledges  dire, 

Which  God  and  man  have  heard, 
To  speak  the  holy  truth  entire 

In  action  and  in  word. 

O  Thou,  who  in  Tliy  holy  place 

Hast  set  Thine  orders  three, 
Grant  me,  Thy  meanest  servant,  grace 

To  win  a  good  degree  ; 
That  so,  replenished  from  above, 

And  in  my  office  tried. 
Thou  mayst  be  honored,  and  in  love 

Thy  Church  be  edified. 

After  his  ordination,  he  still  remained  at  his  post  as  editor  of  the 
Watchman,  until  his  engagement  was  finished  at  the  close  of  the 
second  volume.  During  this  period,  and  amid  his  complicated 
cares,  liis  poetical  talent  was  constantly  exercised.  While  the  char- 
acter of  the  paper,  as  an  authentic  Church  journal  and  expositor, 
was  well  sustained,  very  few  numbers  appeared  without  some  devo- 
tional or  other  poetry  from  his  pen.  From  these  several  pieces  are 
selected,  nearly  in  the  order  in  which  they  were  published. 

*  Referring  to  the  tomb  of  Bishop  Jaevis,  whose  body  reposes  tinder  the 
chancel  of  Trinity  Chm-cli. 


EDITOllIAL  EMPLOYMENT.  55 


SPRING. 


Once  more  thou  comest,  O  delicious  spring ! 
And  as  thy  light  and  gentle  footsteps  tread 
Among  earth's  glories,  desolate  and  dead, 

Breathest  revival  over  every  thing. 

Thy  genial  spirit  is  abroad  to  bring 

The  cold  and  faded  into  life  and  bloom, 
Emblem  of  that  which  shall  unlock  the  tomb, 

And  take  away  the  fell  destroyer's  sting. 

Therefore  thou  hast  the  warmer  welcoming : 
For  Nature  speaks  not  of  herself  alone, 
But  in  her  resurrection  tells  our  own. 

As  from  its  grave  comes  fortli  the  buried  grain, 
So  man's  frail  body,  in  corruption  sown. 

In  incorniption  shall  be  raised  again. 


HYMN 

FOK   THE   FIRST   SUNDAY   AFTER   EASTER. 

Great  Shepherd  of  our  souls !  O,  guide 
Thy  wandering  flock  to  feed 

In  pastures  green,  and  by  the  side 
Of  stilly  waters  lead. 

Do  thou  our  erring  footsteps  keep. 

Whose  life  was  given  for  the  sheep. 

O,  let  not  us,  who  fain  would  cleave 

To  thy  communion,  stray. 
Nor,  tempted  into  ruin,  leave 

The  strait  and  narrow  way  : 
Before  us  thou  the  path  hast  trod. 
And  thou  canst  lead  us.  Son  of  God. 

O,  let  us  hear  thy  warning  voice, 

And  see  thy  arm  divine ; 
Thou  know'st  the  people  of  thy  choice, 

And  thou  art  known  of  thine. 
Do  thou  our  errmg  footsteps  keep, 
Whose  life  was  given  for  the  sheep. 

Then  when  we  pass  the  vale  of  death, 
Though  more  and  more  its  shade 


56  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSA^-ELL.  [1828. 

Around  our  journey  darkeneth, 

We  will  not  be  afraid, 
If  thou  art  with  us,  and  thy  rod 
And  staff  console  us,  Son  of  God. 


THE  MISSIONARY. 

O,  say  not  that  I  am  unkind 
To  friends  so  warm  and  true ; 

I  weep  o'er  all  I  leave  behind, 
I  sigh  to  bid  adieu. 

But  woe  for  my  eternal  lot. 

If  my  untiring  love 
For  Him  who  died  for  me,  be  not 

All  other  things  above. 

Such  is  the  law  of  Christ,  and  such 

The  Savior  we  adore, 
I  could  not  love  you  all  so  much, 

Did  I  not  love  Him  more. 


REVEILLE. 

Up !  quit  thy  bower ;  'tis  the  matin  hour ; 

The  bell  swings  slow  in  the  windowed  tower. 
And  prayer  and  psalm,  in  the  soothing  calm. 

Steal  out,  by  turns,  on  the  air  of  balm ; 
And  in  solemn  awe  of  a  morn  so  still, 
E'en  the  small  birds  sing  with  a  voice  less  shrill. 

Up,  lady  fair !  —  'tis  the  hour  of  prayer,  — 

And  hie  thee  forth  in  the  bracing  air ; 
Now  bow  the  knee,  while  land  and  sea 

Repose  in  their  bright  tranquillity ; 
And  the  sun  as  pure  a  lustre  throws 
As  the  glorious  dawn  when  he  first  arose. 

The  following  is  published  as  a  paraphrase  from  Keble's  "  Chris 
tian  Year."  On  comparison,  it  will  be  found  that  it  is  rather  a 
contraction  than  a  paraphrase  of  a  much  longer  piece  by  Keble, 
entitled  Visitation  and  Communion  of  the  Sick. 


1828.1  EDITOIIIAL  EMPLOYMENT.  57 


COMMUNION   OF  THE   SICK. 

A  simple  altar  stood  beside  the  bed,  ' 

With  plate,  and  chalice,  and  fair  linen  vest, 
For  that  communion  high  and  holy  spread : 

We  ate  and  drank,  and  then,  serenely  blest. 
All  mourners,  one  with  calmly  parting  breath, 
We  talked  together  of  the  Savior's  death. 

O  gentle  spirit,  from  thy  sainted  rest 
Look  down  upon  us  who  must  yet  remain, 

With  whom  thou  shared  the  hallowed  cup  of  grace, 

And  so  soon  parted ;  thou  to  Christ's  embrace. 
We  to  the  world's  drear  loneliness  again ; 
Come,  and  remind  us  of  the  heavenly  strain 

We  practised  as  thou  passed  through  Eden's  door 

To  be  sung  on,  with  angels  evermore. 


SAESTT  JAMES  THE   APOSTLE. 

When  Herod  had  put  forth  his  hand  in  hate 

To  vex  the  Church,  and  thy  heart's  blood  was  poured 

Beneath  the  tyrant's  persecuting  sword, 
First  of  the  chosen  twelve,  'tis  said  thy  fate 
So  wrought  on  thine  accuser,  that,  o'ercome 

By  thine  example,  and  by  grace  subdued. 

He  came,  with  voluntary  fortitude, 
To  share  the  torture  of  thy  martyrdom, 

And  thus  pronounce  his  conscience  satisfied. 

Cheering  each  other  onward,  side  by  side. 
Together  went  betrayer  and  betrayed, 
And  on  the  self-same  block  your  heads  were  laid ; 

And  while  your  blood  the  self-same  scaffold  dyed, 
The  self-same  faith  unshrinkingly  displayed. 


HYilN 

FOR  THE    EIGHTH    SUNDAY   AFTER  TRINITY. 

All  grow  not  on  one  common  stem. 

But  separate  and  alone. 
And  by  its  own  peculiar  fruit 

The  good  or  ill  is  known. 
How  blest  are  they  whom  grace  inclines 

To  bear  the  grafted  good, 
8 


58  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CEOS  WELL.  [1828. 

So  grateful  to  the  longing  taste, 
And  delicate  for  food ! 

A  plant  set  by  the  river  side, 

It  spreadeth  out  its  roots, 
And  in  due  season  bringeth  forth 

Abundantly  its  fruits. 
Its  thick  and  verdant  bouglis  are  like 

The  goodly  cedar  tree. 
Whose  shadow  covereth  the  hills, 

Whose  branches  reach  the  sea. 

But  God  shall  dry  up  from  beneath 

The  wicked  and  unjust ; 
Their  root  shall  be  as  rottenness, 

Their  blossoming  as  dust ; 
Their  grapes  are  Sodom's  grapes  of  gall, 

And  bitter  as  their  sin  ; 
Their  clusters,  though  all  fair  without, 

Are  ashes  all  within. 

The  good  shall  flourish  as  the  branch 

Which  God  for  strength  hath  made  ; 
Its  shady  and  refreshing  leaves 

Shall  never  fall  or  fade  ; 
But  withered  shall  the  godless  be 

In  premature  decay, 
And  with  a  fire  unquenchable 

At  last  consume  away. 


SOUTH  SEA  mSSIONARrES. 

SUGGESTED    BY    A    PASSAGE   IN    STEWART'S    JOURNAL. 

With  pleasure  not  unmixed  with  pain, 

Tiiey  find  their  passage  o'er. 
As,  with  the  Sabbath's  dawn,  they  gain 

That  islet's  rocky  shore  ; 
Behind  them  is  the  sweltry  main, 

The  torrid  land  before. 

No  sound  was  in  the  silence  heard 

To  break  the  air  of  balm. 
Save  when  the  screaming  tropic  bird 

Wheeled  seaward  in  the  calm  ; 
The  faint  and  heated  breeze  scarce  stirred 

The  streamers  of  the  palm. 


1828.1  EDITORIAL  EMPLOYMENT. 

The  shipman  in  the  distance  sees, 
Across  the  glowing  bay, 

The  crowded,  straw-built  cottages, 
Like  sunburnt  ricks  of  hay. 

Beneath  the  tall  banana  trees. 
Bask  in  the  morning  ray. 

And  as  that  self-devoted  band 
Of  Christian  hearts  drew  near. 

No  cool  and  bracing  current  fanned 
The  lifeless  atmosphere. 

Why  should  they  seek  that  savage  land, 
So  desolate  and  drear  ? 

In  faith,  those  far-off  shores  they  trod. 
This  humble  six  or  seven. 

And  through  those  huts  of  matted  sod 
Shall  spread  the  gospel  leaven. 

Till  each  becomes  a  house  of  God, 
A  mercy  gate  of  heaven. 


SONNET. 


"Died,  in  New  York,  on  Sunday  evening  last,  after  a  short  illness,  the  Eev.  Hbnst 
J.  Feltus,  Kector  of  St.  Stephen's  Church,  aged  flfty-three  years." 


Devoted  shepherd  of  thy  Savior's  flock ! 

From  thy  sublime  and  loved  vocation  rent, 
'Tis  joy  to  know  the  overwhelming  shock 

Of  thy  bewept  departure  shall  augment 
The  multitudinous  army  of  the  good. 
And  raise  thee  to  that  holy  brotherhood. 

"  Ashes  to  ashes,  dust  to  kindred  dust," 
Thy  body  is  committed  to  the  ground ; 
Thy  spirit,  with  all  Christian  graces  crowned, 

Such  is  our  certain  confidence  and  trust. 

Enjoys  communion  with  the  sainted  just. 
Long  may  such  servants  of  the  Church  abound,  • 

And,  from  the  altars  where  thy  light  has  stood. 
Shed  burning  lustre  on  the  land  around ! 

Another  funeral  Sonnet  is  here  introduced,  and  with  it  a  narra- 
tive which  will  best  explain  the  occasion  on  which  it  was  written. 
J.  AsHMUN,  Esq.,  agent  of  the  American  Colonization  Society,  and 
governor  of  the  colony  of  Liberia,  had  found  it  necessary,  in  the 
spring  of  1828,  on  account  of  extreme  ill  health,  to  return  to  the 


GO  TMEMOIR   OF  AVILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1828. 

United  States,  with  a  hope  that  the  voyage  might  prove  favorable 
to  his  recovery.  The  passage  was  long  and  tedious,  and  his  sufter- 
ings  (to  adopt  his  own  language)  "were  nearly  indescribable." 
He  arrived  at  New  Haven  on  the  10th  of  August,  and  expired  on 
the  25tl],  in  full  hope  and  trust  in  the  mercy  of  God,  through  his 
blessed  Redeemer.  He  had  the  best  of  medical  advisers,  who  liad 
ascertained,  immediately  on  his  arrival,  that  his  case  was  hopeless  ; 
and  he  was  surrounded  by  the  kindest  and  most  attentive  of  friends. 
He  had  no  relative  present  during  his  illness,  nor  was  it  known  that 
any  one  would  be  able  to  reach  New  Haven  in  time  for  his  funeral. 
But  among  hundreds  of  sympathizing  friends,  there  was  one  most 
sincere  mourner.  This  was  a  little  native  African  boy,  of  twelve 
or  fourteen  years,  whom  Mr.  Ashmun  had  rescued  from  a  Spanish 
slave  trader,  and  kept  near  his  person  to  the  close  of  his  life. 
Much  pity  was  excited  for  this  poor  lone  mourner,  who  was  exceed- 
ingly attached  to  his  deliverer  and  protector  ;  and  though  perfectly 
mute  and  silent,  the  big  tears  were  seen  rolling  down  his  cheeks  as 
often  as  any  of  the  speakers,  at  the  funeral,  alluded  to  the  character 
of  Mr.  Ashmun.  But  a  more  thrilling  and  affecting  incident  was 
yet  in  reserve.  In  the  midst  of  the  solemnities  at  the  church,  and 
just  as  tlie  preacher  was  about  to  name  his  text,  a  great  sensation 
was  observed,  and, Mrs.  Ashmun,  the  mother  of  the  deceased,  who 
arrived  at  that  hour  in  the  steamboat,  ignorant  of  his  death  until 
her  landing,  drove  up  to  the  door  of  the  church,  entered  the  porch, 
and  threw  herself  in  extreme  agony  by  the  side  of  the  bier.  It 
was  long  before  she  could  so  far  recover  as  to  take  a  seat,  and 
attend  to  the  services. 

BURIAL   OF  ASHIVIUN. 

What  desolate  mourner  rushes  to  the  bier, 
And  stays  the  solemn  rites  of  that  sad  hour  ? 

O  God,  sustain  her  as  she  draweth  near, 
Support  her  in  the  struggles  that  o'erpower ! 

It  is  a  childless  mother  that  bows  down 

Beside  the  coffined  corpse,  amid  the  crowd ; 

It  is  the  ashes  of  her  only  son. 

His  living  face  unseen  for  many  a  year : 

Well  may  she  lift  her  voice,  and  weep  aloud. 

The  world  cannot  console  her.     God  alone 

Hath  power  to  speak  to  such  a  sorrowing  one, 
And  take  her  dreadful  load  of  grief  away : 
To  man  it  is  not  given ;  for  who  can  say, 

In  his  own  single  strength,  "  Thy  will  be  done  " .' 


1828.]  EDITORIAL   EMPLOYMENT.  61 


HYMN. 

The  lilied  fields  beliokl ; 

What  king-  in  his  array 
Of  purple  pall  and  cloth  of  gold 

Shines  gorgeously  as  they? 
Their  pcmp,  however  gay, 

Is  brief,  alas !  as  bright ; 
It  lives  but  for  a  summer's  day. 

And  withers  in  a  night. 

If  God  so  clothe  the  soil, 

And  glorify  the  dust, 
Why  should  the  slave  of  daily  toil 

His  providence  distrust.^ 
Will  He,  whose  love  has  nursed 

The  sparrow's  brood,  do  less 
For  those  who  seek  his  kingdom  first, 

And  with  it  righteousness  ? 

The  birds  fly  forth  at  will; 

They  neither  plough  nor  sow : 
Yet  theirs  the  sheaves  that  crown  the  hill. 

Or  glad  the  vale  below. 
While  through  the  realms  of  air 

He  guides  their  trackless  way. 
Will  man,  in  faithlessness,  despair.^ 

Is  he  worth  less  than  they? 


MICHAELMAS. 

Lift  up  your  heads,  ye  everlasting  gates ! 

While,  with  our  brethren  of  the  crystal  sky, 

God's  glorious  name  we  laud  and  magnify. 
Angels,  Archangels,  Powers,  and  Potentates, 
Dominions,  Thrones,  and  thou,  preeminent 

Among  the  leaders  of  the  orders  bright. 

Who  beat  in  battle  from  the  starry  height 
Th'  apostate  spirit  down  his  dread  descent. 

With  these.  O  Michael,  the  redeemed  unite 
In  that  triumphant  and  eternal  hymn, 
Which,  passing  to  each  other,  Cherubim 

And  Seraphim  continually  do  cry : 
"Holy,  thrice  holy,  Lord  of  love  and  light! 

All  glory  be  to  thee,  O  God  most  hiffh ! " 


MEMOm   OF  AVILLIAM   CRO.SWELL.  [1828. 


THE  seat;n  churches. 

How  doth  each  city  solitary  sit 

That  once  was  full  of  people  !     Round  his  path 
The  Christian  pilgrim  finds  remaining  yet 

The  fearful  records  of  accomplished  wrath. 

The  glory  of  God's  house  departed  hath ; 
The  golden  candlestick  cannot  emit 

One  glimmering  ray,  however  faint  and  dim  ; 

There  is  no  consecrated  oil  to  trim 
Th'  extinguished  flame  whicli  once  the  Spirit  lit. 

Alas  !  that  he  who  hath  an  ear  to  hear 
The  teaching  of  that  Spirit,  can  forget 
These  dread  fulfilments  of  prophetic  writ, 

Nor  lay  them  to  his  stricken  heart,  in  fear 
Lest  he  thus  hear,  and  thus  abandon  it. 


AFRICA. 

When  shall  thy  centre  opened  be  ? 

When  shall  the  veil,  that  lay 
Upon  that  land  of  mystery 

So  long,  be  torn  away  ? 
When  shall  the  hallowed  Cross  be  seen 

Far  in  those  sunny  tracts, 
Beyond  the  lofty  mountain  screen. 

And  thundering  cataracts  ? 

When  shall  thy  daily  barks,  that  bring 

Rich  lading  to  the  sea 
Of  plumes  of  gorgeous  coloring, 

And  choicest  ivory, 
And  incense  of  acacia  groves. 

And  costly  gems,  and  grains 
Of  that  most  valued  gold  washed  down 

By  Abyssinian  rains ;  — 

When  shall  they  bear  a  freightage  back 

More  precious  than  those  woods. 
Whose  fragrance  fills  the  Niger's  track 

In  seasons  of  the  floods  ? 
When  shall  each  kingdom,  that  receives 

The  Gospel,  learn  to  prize 
The  treasures  hidden  in  its  leaves 

Above  all  raercliandise  r 


1828.]  EDITORIAL  EMPLOl^IENT.  m 

Then  bread  upon  thy  waters  cast 

Shall  not  be  cast  in  vain  ; 
But  after  many  days  are  past, 

It  shall  be  found  again. 
Then  thy  barbaric  sons  shall  sue, 

Nor  nature's  self  resist. 
An  entrance  for  their  kindred  true, 

The  dark  Evangelist. 


SONNET. 

In  the  recesses  of  the  western  wood, 

In  to  its  very  heart,  —  by  all  forgot 

Save  Him  who  made  me,  —  would  it  were  my  lot 
To  bear  the  burden  of  its  solitude  ; 

And  in  some  wild  and  unfrequented  spot. 
Sharing  the  Indian  hunter's  cabin  rude. 

To  lead,  in  glad  return,  a  willing  guide. 

His  humbled  spirit  to  the  Crucified ; 
And  in  the  solemn  twilight,  hushed  and  dim, 

The  forest  people  often  gathering. 

To  make  the  green  and  pillared  arches  ring, 
Not  with  the  war  song,  but  the  holy  hymn. 

So  might  I  live,  and  leave  no  other  trace 

Where  I  had  made  my  earthly  dwelling-place. 


CRETE. 

Ancient  of  years,  the  hundred-citied  isle !   • 
Still  art  thou  left  a  goodly  sight  to  see, 
To  breathe  thine  air  is  still  a  luxury, 

And  "  man  alone,"  of  all  around,  "  is  vile," 
Viler  than  e'en  thy  first-born  Caphtorira.* 

When  shalt  thou  be  once  more  as  thou  hast  been  ? 
When  shall  thy  navied  strength  resistless  swim, 

And  make  thee,  Britain  like,  an  ocean  queen  ? 

When,  rising  from  the  dust,  shalt  thou  be  seen 
A  nursing  mother  to  the  Church  again. 

And  when,  alas !  another  Titus  come 
To  rear  the  fallen  Cross,  nor  reordain 
In  all  thy  cities  priestly  men  in  vain. 

But  leave  thy  name  a  praise  in  Christendom  .' 

*  Amos  ix.  7. 


fi-l  MEMOIR  OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  fl828. 


GREECE. 


Upon  thy  sacred  mountain  tops, 

How  beautiful,  O  Greece, 
The  feet  of  him  that  publisheth 

Through  all  thy  borders  peace  ! 
Like  Paul,  his  spirit  to  release 

Of  those  high  claims  he  seeks, 
Which  bankrupt  all  the  love  we  owe 

As  "  debtors  to  the  Greeks." 

A  piercing  cry  from  Macedon 

Rings  o'er  the  ocean  still, 
A  cry  from  Athens,  and  the  shrine 

Upon  its  idol-hill. 
A  cry  from  Corinth  and  the  isles 

Of  loud  entreaty  speaks  : 
Up,  Christians,  to  your  great  discharge, 

As  "  debtors  to  the  Greeks." 


SAINT  THOMAS. 

When  from  tlieir  native  Palestine 

The  twelve  spread  far  and  wide. 
Alone  he  went  from  Salem's  shrine 

On  to  the  Ganges'  side. 
The  greensward  was  his  dying  bed. 

And  from  the  crimson  sod 
His  blood,  Avhich  Brahma's  cliildren  shed, 

Went  reeking  up  to  God. 

On  that  foundation,  long  unsought. 

For  eighteen  hundred  years, 
A  Middleton  and  Heber  wrought. 

And  their  successor  rears. 
The  Church  for  which  his  blood  Avas  spilt, 

How  can  it  be  o'erthrown. 
On  Prophets  and  Apostles  built. 

With  Christ  the  corner  stone  ? 


1828.1  EDITORIAL  EMPLOYMENT. 

CHRISTMAS. 

"  The  glory  of  Lebanon,"  &c.    Isaiah. 

The  thickly-\v'oven  boughs  they  wreathe 

Tlirough  every  liallowed  fane, 
A  soft,  reviving  odor  breathe 

Of  summer's  gentle  reign  ; 
And  rich  the  ray  of  mild  green  light 

Which,  like  an  emerald's  glow, 
Comes  struggling  through  the  latticed  height 

Upon  the  crowds  below. 

O,  let  the  streams  of  solemn  thought, 

Which  in  those  temples  rise. 
From  deeper  sources  spring  than  aught 

Dependent  on  the  skies. 
Then,  though  the  summer's  glow  departs, 

And  winter's  withering  chill 
Rests  on  the  cheerless  woods,  our  hearts 

Shall  be  unchanging  still. 


SAINT   STEPHEN. 

"  iVnd  all  that  were  in  the  council,"  &c. 

With  awful  dread  his  murderers  shook. 

As,  radiant  and  serene. 
The  lustre  of  his  dying  look 

Was  like  an  angel's  seen, 
Or  Moses'  face  of  paly  light. 

When  down  the  mount  he  trod. 
All  glowing  from  the  glorious  sight 

And  presence  of  his  God. 

To  us,  with  all  his  constancy. 

Be  his  rapt  vision  given. 
To  look  above  by  feith,  and  see 

Revealments  bright  from  heaven. 
And  power  to  speak  our  triumphs  out 

As  our  last  hour  draws  near. 
While  neither  clouds  of  fear  nor  doubt 

Before  our  view  appear. 
9 


06  MEMOIR  OF  WILLIAM   CEOSWELL.  [1828. 


SAIXT  PAUL. 


The  holy  saints  of  old, 

On  God's  commission  sent, 
Their  high  and  heavenly  station  hold 

Above  our  measurement ; 
They  shine,  each  unapproachable, 

A  constellated  star. 
And  in  their  glorious  beauty  dwell, 

Companionless,  afar. 

But  let  us  not  forget 

That  we  are  kin  to  these, 
Men  of  like  passions,  and  beset 

With  like  infirmities ; 
Nor  will  their  spirits  emulous 

Our  brotherhood  contemn ; 
As  erst  they  have  been  one  with  us. 

We  may  be  one  with  them. 

Still  round  our  darkling  road 

Their  heavenly  light  they  shed, 
And  guide  our  feet  to  their  abode, 

And  show  Avhere  we  must  tread. 
Then  let  the  souls  whom  Christ  sets  free, 

Ere  yet  that  light  be  dim, 
Be  strong,  O  Paul,  to  follow  thee. 

As  thou  hast  followed  Him. 


The  following  lines,  as  the  title  indicates,  were  published  in  the 
last  number  of  the  Watchman  issued  in  1828 :  — 


THE   DYING  YEAR. 

Hark  to  tliy  last  hour's  passing  knell, 

A  startling  sound  to  hear : 
Eternally  we  bid  farewell 

To  thee,  departing  year ! 
Go  join  the  long-gone  centuries, 

Thy  sisters  dim  and  gray  ; 
For  soon,  with  all  thy  power  to  please, 

Thou  shalt  be  dim  as  they. 


1829.1  EDITOKIAT.  EMPLOYMENT.  67 

'Tis  o'er,  thy  weijrht  of  weal  and  woe, 

And  nearer  lies  the  bourn 
To  which  though  all  life's  travellers  go. 

No  travellers  return. 
O,  who  can  read  thy  doomsday  roll 

Of  days  and  hours  misspent. 
Nor  seek  a  refuge  for  his  soul 

From  their  just  punishment  ? 


Finally,  at  the  conclusion  of  the  second  volume  of  the  Watchman, 
his  engagement  was  brought  to  a  close.  The  two  editors  jointly 
resigned  their  charge  in  a  farewell  address,  of  which  the  following 
are  among  the  concluding  paragraphs:  "The  period  at  which  our 
solemn  obligations,  as  servants  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  call  us, 
in  devoting  ourselves  exclusively  to  the  work  of  the  ministry,  to 
relinquish  the  editorial  labors  and  responsibilities,  appears  to  us 
pregnant  with  the  most  eventful  intej-est  to  the  Church  of  our  duty 
and  of  our  love.  That  the  ministrations  of  her  bishops  and  other 
clergy  have  been  singularly  blessed,  we  have  occasion  for  fervent 
thankfulness  to  God ;  and  in  the  increasing  disposition,  in  the  whole 
community  of  which  we  are  a  part,  to  hear  the  word  at  her  mouth, 
we  have  great  encouragement  to  renew  our  labors  with  diligence, 
and  our  prayers  with  confidence.  .  .  .  Finally,  brethren,  fare- 
well. Be  perfect,  be  of  good  comfort,  be  of  one  mind,  live  in  peace ; 
and  the  God  of  love  and  peace  be  with  you  all.     Amen. 


1829. 


Of  the  movements  which  led  to  the  first  call  of  the  newly- 
ordained  deacon  to  a  pastoral  charge,  it  is  unnecessary  to  speak 
at  large.  Before  and  after  his  ordination,  he  had  many  kind  and 
pressing  invitations  to  visit  Boston  ;  but  besides  the  constant  de- 
mands upon  his  time,  he  had  other  satisfactory  reasons  for  declining 
these  invitations,  and,  above  all,  his  extreme  reluctance  to  obtruding 
himself  upon  the  notice  and  patronage  of  his  friends.  The  first 
official  communication  on  the  subject  is  contained  in  the  following 
note,  received  before  his  ordination:  — 


68  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1829. 

Boston,  January  11,  1829. 
Mr,  William  Croswell,  Hartford. 

Dear  Sir :  At  a  meeting  of  the  proprietors  of  Christ  Church,  in  Boston, 
holden  at  their  vestry  room  on  the  18th  of  October,  18Q8,  it  was  voted,  that 
John  Rice,  Charles  Wade,  and  John  Wilson  should  be  a  committee  to 
procure  an  assistant  minister  to  the  Rev.  Asa  Eaton,  their  rector. 

As  we  understand  it  to  be  your  intention  shortly  to  visit  our  city,  we  beg 
leave  to  suggest  to  you,  by  this  communication,  that  we  shall  be  happy  to 
confer  with  any  gentleman  qualified  for,  and  who  might  desire  to  avail  him- 
self of  such  a  situation. 

If,  on  your  arrival,  it  should  be  agreeable  to  you  to  call  on  our  friend,  Mr. 
Eaton,  or  on  the  committee,  he,  as  well  as  they,  will  be  happy  to  become 
acquainted  with  you,  and  to  confer  with  you  on  the  subject. 
With  sentiments  of  respect  and  esteem. 

We  are,  dear  sir,  your  obedient  servants, 

JOHN  RICE, 
Chairman  of  the  Committee. 

As  there  was  notliing  in  this  communication  requiring  any  very 
definite  reply,  he  returned  a  respectful  answer,  hut  deferred  the 
proposed  visit  until  after  his  ordination.  This  having  taken  place, 
and  his  editorial  labors  being  brought  to  a  conclusion,  he  left  home 
for  Boston  on  Wednesday,  the  22d  of  April,  1829.  At  this  time, 
when  a  passage  fi'om  New  Haven  to  Boston,  by  railroad,  is  per- 
formed in  less  than  six  hours,  it  seems  almost  incredible  that  the 
journey,  only  twenty-three  years  ago,  should  have  been  such  a  for- 
midable affair.  Taking  the  stage  route  by  Hartford,  the  only  way 
then  provided,  he  dates  from  Providence,  R.  I.,  on  Friday  evening, 
thus  relieving  his  weariness  by  a  httle  stroke  of  facetiousness  : 
"  Being  here  in  a  state  barely  of  existence,  in  the  spirit  of  the 
imperative  mood,  which  is  used  for  exhorting  and  entreating,  I 
would  beseech  all  in  whom  I  have  any  interest  to  make  their  entry 
to  Boston  by  any  other  approach  than  that  of  Providence.  The 
only  recommendation  it  has  is,  that  it  will  be  sure  to  wear  all  his 
.sharp  points  down.  Never,  in  my  born  days,  have  I  undergone 
such  a  pilgrimage  in  a  stage  coach.  The  coaches  are  rickety,  and 
the  roads  rocTccty,  beyond  all  conception.  I  feel  very  much  as  the 
man  in  the  poem, — 

'  Seven  centuries  bounced  he  from  cavern  to  rock. 
And  his  head,  as  he  tumbled,  went  knickety  knock, 
Like  a  pebble  in  Carisbrook  well.' " 

He  arrived  at  Boston  on  Saturday ;  and  on  the  following  Sunday, 
being  the  first  after  Easter,  he  preached  for  Dr.  Eaton,  in  Christ 
Church,  both  morning  and  afternoon,  and  performed  all  the  services 
except  the  ante-communion. 

Unexpectedly  to  him,  as  well  as  to  the  parish  generally,  Dr. 
Eaton  now  resigned  the  office  of  rector;  and  he  was  invited  to 
supply   the   pulpit  for  another   Sunday  before   his   return  to  New 


1829.]  CHRIST   CHURCH,  BOSTON.  G9 

Haven.      On   the   13th   of  May,  he   received  the   followinjj  official 
notice  of  his  election  to  the  rectorship  :  — 

At  a  meeting  of  the  proprietors  of  Clirist  Church,  held  at  their  vestry 
room,  on  Wednesday  evening,  May  13,  1829,  it  was  unanimously 

Voted,  Tiiat  the  Rev.  William  Croswell,  of  New  Haven,  Connecticut, 
be  invited  to  become  the  rector  of  this  church,  at  a  salary  of  five  hundred 
dollars  per  annum  ;  with  the  understanding  that  the  salary  is  to  be  increased 
at  least  one  hundred  dollars  per  annum,  until  it  amounts  to  one  thousand 
dollars. 

Attest,  JOS.  W.  INGRAHAM, 

Proprietors^  and  Vestry  Clerk. 

After  taking  time  for  reflection,  and  for  the  consultation  of  his 
friends,  he  returned  the  following  reply :  — 

New  Ha'»en,  May  21,  1829. 
Mr.  Joseph  W.  Ingraham. 

My  dear  Sir :  You  are  hereby  requested  and  authorized  to  signify  to  the 
proprietors  of  Christ  Church  my  acceptance  of  their  invitation  to  assume  the 
rectorship  of  said  church,  Avith  which  I  was  favored  under  your  hand  on 
Thursday  morning  last,  for  such  a  length  of  time  as  shall  be  mutually 
agreeable  to  the  parties  concerned.  I  have  come  to  this  conclusion  with 
much  hesitation  and  self-distrust ;  but  relying  on  the  promised  sufficiency  of 
God's  grace,  and  the  cordial  cooperation  of  the  members  of  the  parish,  to 
sustain  me  in  its  arduous  and  responsible  duties,  I  have  made  my  arrange- 
ments for  leaving  here  next  week,  and  expect,  Providence  permitting,  to  be 
prepared  to  enter  on  the  service  of  the  parish,  on  Sunday,  the  31st  inst., 
being  the  first  after  Ascension.  May  the  blessing  of  God  so  rest  upon  the 
proposed  connection  as  to  make  it  pleasant  and  profitable  to  us  all,  and 
acceptable  to  him.  Commending  myself  to  your  charitable  consideration 
and  prayers,  I  hope  you  will  believe  me  to  be 

Your  faithful  and  devoted  servant  in  Christ, 

WILLIAM  CROSWELL. 

Accordingly,  we  find  this  as  the  first  record  in  his  diary: 
"  Sunday,  May  31,  1829.  Entered  into  the  service  of  my  first  par- 
ish, Christ  Church,  Boston.  In  the  morning,  was  with  them  '  in 
weakness,  and  in  fear,  and  in  much  trembling.'  Dined  with  Mr. 
Clark,  senior  warden.  Attended  Sunday  school  at  noon.  In  the 
P.  M.  preached  on  the  Ascension.  Afier  service,  presided  in  the 
annual  meeting  of  the  Sunday  school  society  for  nearly  three  hours." 

Having  thus  entered  upon  the  arduous  labors  and  heavy  respon- 
sibilities of  this  pastoral  charge,  it  cannot  be  doubted,  from  his  well- 
known  diffidence  and  self-distrust,  that  he  experienced  all  that  he 
expresses  of  weakness,  and  fear,  and  much  trembhng.  Had  he 
been  compelled  to  rely  solely  on  his  own  judgment,  without  coun- 
sellor or  friend,  he  would  have  found  the  weight  of  his  cares  alto- 
gether insupportable.  But,  providentially,  he  was  not  alone.  To 
say  nothing  of  his  "  next  friend  and  more  than  brother,"  there  stood 
by  his  side  his  venerated  predecessor,  ready,  with  almost  paternal 


70  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROS^\^LL,  [1829. 

kindness,  to  hold  up  his  bands,  and  to  render  bim  every  facility  in 
his  power  for  the  commencement  of  this  first  stated  work  of  his 
ministry.  Dr.  Eaton,  by  his  resignation,  bad  no  intention  of  throw- 
ing his  young  successor  into  any  embarrassment,  nor  of  withdrawing 
his  interest  from  the  parish.  The  measure  was  doubtless  dictated 
by  self-respect,  and  by  a  hearty  desire  to  leave  the  people  of  his 
late  charge  at  liberty  to  concentrate  their  energies,  and  to  make  a 
united  eifort  to  sustain  and  perpetuate  the  interests  of  the  Church. 
He  introduced  the  new  rector  to  the  members  of  the  flock,  as 
opportunity  occurred,  and  by  his  sagacious  counsel  and  advice  con- 
tributed much  to  the  mutual  benefit  of  pastor  and  people. 

It  is  pleasant  to  recur  to  some  of  the  early  sketches  of  his  first 
impressions  of  Boston,  its  institutions,  its  buildings,  and  its  men. 
Under  date  of  May,  1829,  he  says,  "  Sherman  would  find  a  great 
many  things  here  to  interest  and  entertain  him.  Boston  certainly 
goes  beyond  most  of  our  cities  in  genuine  taste,  alnd  the  patronage 
which  it  extends  to  literature  and  the  fine  arts.  The  Athenaeum 
Gallery  of  Paintings  was  opened  last  Monday  ;  and  although  the 
weather  has  been  unpleasant,  more  than  twenty-five  hundred  season 
tickets,  at  fifty  cents  each,  have  been  disposed  of.  There  are  some 
beautiful  paintings  at  the  present  exhibition.  There  is  a  large  pro- 
portion of  landscapes  and  small  pieces,  many  of  which  are  exqui- 
site. .  .  .  The  monument  at  Bunker  Hill  has  been  commenced 
in  a  most  noble  style,  the  base  being  carried  up  nearly  fifty  feet,  of 
huge  masses  of  granite,  three  feet  by  six.  The  work  is  at  present 
suspended  for  want  of  funds ;  but  the  view  from  the  top  even  now, 
which  you  gain  by  means  of  a  spiral  staircase  inside,  is  very  com- 
manding and  picturesque.  .  .  .  Christ  Church  is  truly  a  '  sol- 
emn temple,'  and  has  a  fine  organ.  No  man,  who  has  any  music 
in  himself,  but  would  be  delighted  with  its  chime  of  bells. 
Trinity  Church,  [then  in  process  of  building,]  for  its  massive  and 
solid  architecture,  is  far  beyond  any  church  that  I  have  ever  seen. 
I  have  repeatedly  come  in  contact  with  Dr.  Channing,  and 
have  ceased  to  wonder  at  the  prodigious  influence  which  he  exerts 
over  his  party.  His  manners  are  most  simple  and  unobtrusive. 
The  flow  of  his  conversation  is  sweet,  quiet,  and  placid,  and  his 
power  of  the  most  fascinating  and  tranquil  kind.  He  gains  a  great 
deal,  too,  by  his  grave  and  solemn  complacency,  which  never 
relaxes  into  a  smile." 

Another  step  in  his  onward  progress  was  now  to  be  taken.  It  is 
thus  announced,  in  a  letter  to  his  father  of  the  22d  of  June  :  «'  It 
is  deemed  so  important,  at  this  time,  to  create  confidence  in  my 
settlement  as  a  permanent  one,  that  I  have  acquiesced  in  the  pro- 
priety of  my  institution  at  the  same  time  with  my  ordination,  [as 
priest,]  which  is  appointed  to  lake  place  day  after  to-morrow." 

This  was  accordingly  done  at  the  time  proposed,  being  the  24th 


1829.]  OltDIXATION  AND   INSTITUTION.  71 

of  June,  the  feast  of  St.  John  the  Baptist ;  and  his  own  account  of 
the  double  soh'nuiity  is  given  in  a  letter  to  a  cousin,  under  date  of 
Boston,  Monday  morning-,  June  29,  1829  :  "  Tlie  most  solemn  trans- 
action of  my  whole  life  took  place  last  Wednesday,  when  I  took 
upon  me  the  awful  responsibilities  of  the  priesthood  of  the  Church 
of  Christ,  and  was  instituted  rector  of  Christ  Church.  I  need  not 
ask  the  prayers  of  you  all,  that  grace  may  be  given  me  to  fulfil  the 
obligations  then  incurred.  My  hand  is  put  to  the  plough,  with  a 
double  pledge;  and  1  cannot  drawback  without  drawing  back  unto 
perdition.  The  day  was  delightfully  cool  and  pleasant,  the  congre- 
gation numerous,  the  service  highly  impressive  ;  the  bishop's  sermon 
was  excellent,  and  the  office  perfoimed  in  a  most  apostolical  man- 
ner. Yesterday  I  preached  a  double  sermon,  on  the  ministerial 
relation  and  the  ministerial  responsibilities,  from  Hebrews  xiii.  17  : 
'  They  watch  for  your  souls,  as  tliey  that  must  give  account.'  But 
as  the  day  was  unpleasant,  the  congregation  was  meagre  ;  and  it  is 
my  intention  to  prepare  a  discourse  of  a  local  nature  for  next  Sun- 
day. The  communion  being  then  administered,  I  shall  have  but  a 
single  one  to  write.  For  the  last  three  Sunday  evenings  we  have 
had  a  third  service  ;  and  in  the  present  situation  of  the  parish,  I 
consider  this  measure  to  be  so  absolutely  necessary  to  its  growth 
and  prosperity,  that  they  will  be  continued' regularly  during  the 
summer.  Nor  need  you  be  apprehensive  that  this  is  to  be  attended 
with  any  over-exertion  on  my  part.  The  clergy  of  the  city  have 
engaged  to  supply  the  pulpit  in  rotation ;  and  Mr.  Doane  will  hold 
himself  in  readiness  to  stand  in  the  gap,  in  case  of  failure. 
I  was  presented  by  Dr.  Eaton  at  the  ordination,  and  was  honored 
with  the  attendance  of  a  considerable  number  of  the  clergy." 

From  this  time  he  proceeded  with  his  manifold  labors,  often 
preaching,  notwithstanding  his  father's  admonitions  to  the  contrary, 
three  sermons,  besides  performing  many  otiier  services,  during  the 
day.  As  early  as  the  26th  of  July,  he  writes,  in  his  playful  manner, 
"  I  have  inflicted  three  discourses  on  the  patient  people  of  this  good 
city  on  this  blessed  day."  The  morning  sermon  was  preached  in 
Trinity  Church,  in  exchange  with  his  friend  Doane,  and  the  other 
two  in  his  own  church,  where  he  had  also  the  additional  duty  of 
administering  baptism  to  an  adult  and  an  infant,  and  performing, 
for  the  first  time,  the  marriage  ceremony.  "  It  leaves  me,"  he  says, 
"very  little  fatigued.  My  voice,  I  find,  is  constantly  gaining  in 
flexibility  and  compass,  and  I  think  I  speak  with  greater  ease  and 
clearness  at  the  third  service  than  at  any  other."  In  the  same  letter 
he  speaks  with  much  gratification  of  his  having  received  fifty  dollars 
from  four  ladies  of  his  parish,  to  constitute  him  a  manager  for  life 
in  the  Episcopal  Sunday  School  Uiiion. 

In  some  of  his  subsequent  letters  he  speaks  of  his  intention,  as 
far  as  practicable,  of  avoiding  the  labor  of  three  entire  services,  in 


72  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1829. 

one  day,  without  assistance  ;  but  on  Sunday  evening,  October  18, 
he  writes,  "  Though  several  hours  have  ehipsed  since  the  exercises 
of  this  day  of  rest  were  over,  I  feel  no  particular  sensation  of  wea- 
riness or  languor.  I  have  read  three  full  services,  and  preached 
three  discourses,  and  baptized  fourteen  children  in  the  afternoon, 
have  entered  up  my  journal,  and  now  hope  to  get  ahead  of  time 
by  completing  my  weekly  epistle  before  I  sleep." 

Indeed,  the  fact  is  disclosed  by  his  diary  and  his  correspondence, 
that,  during  the  whole  period  of  his  ministry  in  Christ  Church,  he 
seldom  or  never,  either  at  home  or  abroad,  fell  short  of  his  three 
services  on  Sunday,  besides  other  occasional  duties,  and  especially 
the  baptism  of  adidts  and  children,  which  occurred  on  almost  every 
Sunday.  He  gives  the  reason  for  the  great  amount  of  this  special 
duty,  in  a  letter  to  a  brother  clergyman,  who  had  proposed  an 
exchange.  He  says  in  his  diary,  October  24,  "  The  situation  of  my 
parish  was  so  peculiar  and  interesting,  that  I  considered  it  an  abso- 
lute duty  to  be  at  home.     Accordingly,  I  wrote  to  Mr. to  this 

effect.  I  stated  the  interest  which  had  been  created  in  the  parish 
on  the  subject  of  infant  baptism,  and  acquainted  him  that  I  had 
now  a  list  of  twenty  or  thirty  cases  which  required  attention  imme- 
diately. I  further  informed  him  of  the  adult  cases  in  a  course  of 
preparation,  and  of  my  candidates  for  confirmation,  which  is  very 
soon  to  be  administered.  Baptism  has  fallen  into  great  disrepute 
and  disparagement  here,  chiefly,  I  apprehend,  from  our  close  and 
contagious  contact,  or  rather  envelopment,  with  schismatics  and 
heretics  of  all  classes  and  descriptions." 

With  regard  to  the  pastoral  labors  which  devolved  upon  him 
daily,  such  as  the  visitation  of  the  sick,  the  destitute,  and  the  aftlict- 
ed,  his  journal  furnishes  such  details  as  can  probably  be  found  in 
the  experience  of  few  other  servants  of  Christ.  It  is  not  intended 
to  transfer  these  details  to  these  pages.  They  will  be  brought  viv- 
idly to  view,  so  far  as  they  are  needed  to  illustrate  his  character,  by 
the  testimonials  with  which  these  memoirs  will  be  closed. 

But  even  a  life  thus  overloaded  with  care  and  labor  was  not 
without  its  bright  and  sunny  spots,  and  no  one  was  ever  capable  of 
enjoying  to  a  greater  degree  the  pleasant  and  delightful  scenes 
which  lay  about  his  path  and  encompassed  all  his  ways. 

His  high  appreciation  of  the  beauties  of  natural  and  rural  sce- 
nery was  a  source  of  much  enjoyment.  He  thus  describes  a  visit, 
on  a  fine  October  day,  to  Pine  Bank,  the  residence  of  his  friend 
DoANE  :  "  I  went  out  about  midday.  It  was  the  perfection  of 
autumnal  weather.  The  woods  were  changing  most  gorgeously. 
The  atmosphere  was  perfectly  transparent,  and  there  was  a  glory  in 
the  sunshine  beyond  the  burning  brightness  of  midsummer.  The 
scenery  about  my  friend's  seat  is  always  picturesque  and  enchanting, 
and  reminds  me  of  those  scenes  described  by  Isaac  Walton,  as  '  too 


1829.]  CHRIST   CirUIlCII,  BOSTON.  73 

pleasant  to  be  looked  upon  hut  only  on  holidays.'  But  the  aspect 
under  wliich  I  viewed  it  to-day  gave  it  new  fascinations.  We  clam- 
bered up  the  brow  of  a  hill,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  little  blue 
lake,  with  its  well-wooded  and  distinctly-defined  banks,  and  its  pure 
and  cln-ysohte  waters.  Thougli  we  could  look  afar  oft'  to  the  '  stee- 
pled  town  and  ocean  blue,'  there  was  a  nearer  '  cynosure  of  neigh- 
boring eyes,'  '  bosomed  high  in  tufted  trees,'  which  captivated  our 
attention  to  their  gay  and  high-colored  draperies.  We  had  before 
us  the  beau  ideal  of  poetic  rhapsodies,  and  almost  realized  that 
serenity  which  is  to  belong  to  the  age  of  the  righteous.  The  sunset 
was  indescribably  beautiful.  I  returned  to  town  by  a  rich  moon- 
light, which,  struggling  with  the  haziness  of  autumn,  invested  every 
thing  with  a  sort  of  sleepy  magnificence." 

He  also  found  many  a  pleasant  episode,  amid  his  daily  round 
of  duties,  in  his  quiet  and  discriminating  observation  of  the  traits 
of  character  in  the  men  witli  whom  he  was  brought  in  con- 
tact.    Having   met  a  celebrated  comedian  at  a  pubhc  dinner,  he 

throws  oft'  the  following  sketch  :   " ,  the  comedian,  was  under 

my  eye  at  table,  and  was  in  himself  a  study.  His  mind  was  evi- 
dently intent  on  something  more  than  the  feast  before  him.  His 
object  was  obviously  to  divert  the  guests  from  his  track,  by  an 
occasional  brilliant  remark  or  lively  repartee.  A  frequent  abstract- 
edness of  look,  and  perpetual  motion  of  his  lips,  betrayed  him  to 
the  attentive  observer.  His  behavior  and  deportment  were  strictly 
guarded  and  correct,  though  his  conversation  was  much  courted, 
and  whatever  fell  from  his  lips  was  listened  to  with  expectation  and 
honored  with  great  applause.  It  evidently  costs  him  severe  study 
to  maintain  his  reputation  as  a  wit,  and  it  seems  to  be  quite  a  ques- 
tion whether  it  does  not  cost  him  more  than  it  is  worth." 

The  notes  of  the  present  year  must  not  be  closed  without  re- 
cording a  still  further  testimony  of  his  unwillingness  to  engage  in 
any  pursuit  which  might  divert  his  mind  from  the  great  ends  of  his 
ministry.  He  had  not  been  long  settled  in  Boston  before  a  pro- 
spectus was  issued  for  the  publication  of  a  new  monthly  magazine, 
to  be  devoted  to  the  interests  of  the  Church,  under  the  title  of  The 
American  Christian  Observer.  The  plan  met  with  the  favor 
and  approbation  of  many  leading  Churchmen  in  New  England  and 
other  parts  of  the  country,  and  several  distinguished  divines  and 
scholars  were  ready  to  pledge  themselves  to  contribute  liberally  to 
its  pages.  But  it  was  found  extremely  difiicult  to  procure  the  ser- 
vices of  a  responsible  editor,  and  the  office  was  urged  upon  the 
rector  of  Christ  Church.  The  proposal  was  resisted  from  the  first 
to  the  last ;  and  the  following  extract  of  a  letter  to  his  father, 
November  23,  will  show  his  reasons,  not  only  for  refusing  the  edit- 
orship, but  also  for  an  entire  abandonment  of  the  whole  plan :  "  At 
present  I  am  disposed  to  think  it  was  a  happy  providence  which 
10 


74  MEMOIR   OF   WILLIAM   CROS^^'ELL.         .  [1829. 

placed  me  here,  and  I  desire  no  other  situation.  I  do  not,  however, 
intend  to  encumber  myself  with  any  unnecessary  fetters ;  and  on 
this  account,  I  fed.  distrustful  about  embarking-  in  the  American 
Christian  Observer.  It  is  so  lately  that  I  have  been  ground  down 
by  this  species  of  servitude,  and  the  release  has  given  such  an  elas- 
ticity to  my  spirits,  that  I  can  hardly  reconcile  myself  to  bringing 
my  neck  again  under  the  yoke.  I  never  fail  to  tell  my  Hartford 
friends  that  it  is  perfect  felicity  and  bliss,  in  comparison  to  the  two 
long  years  of  bondage  which  I  spent  with  them.  There  are  other 
reasons  .  "  .  •  to  warrant  us,  I  think,  in  the  abandonment  of 
the  whole  design." 

The  following  Hymn,  written  and  published  in  the  Watchman 
some  two  years  before,  is  inserted  here,  as  it  was  now  brought 
forward,  adapted  to  music,  and  sung  in  Christ  Church  on  the  even- 
ing of  the  first  Sunday  in  Advent.  The  general  and  immemorial 
usage  in  Massachusetts  sanctioned  these  musical  additions  to  the 
prescribed  Church  service. 


H\\MN  FOR  ADATINT. 

While  the  darkness  yet  hovers, 

The  harbinger  star 
Peers  through  and  discovers 

The  dawn  from  afar; 
To  many  an  aching 

And  watch-wearied  eye, 
The  dayspring  is  breaking 

Once  more  from  on  high. 

With  lamps  trimmed  and  burning, 

The  Church  on  her  way 
To  meet  thy  returning, 

O  bright  King  of  day ! 
Goes  forth  and  rejoices. 

Exulting  and  free. 
And  sends  from  all  voices 

Hosannas  to  thee. 

She  casts  off  her  sorrows. 

To  rise  and  to  shine 
With  the  lustre  she  borrows, 

O  Savior !  from  thine. 
Look  down,  for  thine  honor, 

O  Lord!   and  increase 
In  thy  mercy  upon  her 

The  blessing  of  peace. 


1829.]  CHRIST   CHURCH.  75 

Her  children  with  trembling  •  ^ 

Await,  but  not  fear, 
Till  the  time  of  assembling 

Before  thee  draws  near; 
When,  freed  from  all  sadness,, 

And  sorrow,  and  pain. 
They  shall  meet  thee  in  gladness 

And  glory  again. 

The  Hymn  which  follows,  "  from  the  Latin  of  St.  Ambrose,"  first 
appeared  in  the  Watchman,  and  is  found  in  his  manuscript  collec- 
tions. The  piece  next  below  the  Hymn  was  written  at  about  this 
period,  and  subsequently  appeared  in  the  Banner. 


HY^IN  FOR  THE    FOURTH   SUNDAY  AFTER  EASTER. 

Creator  Spirit !  come  and  bless  us  ; 
Let  thy  love  and  fear  possess  us  ; 
With  thy  graces  meek  and  lowly 
Purify  our  spirits  wholly. 
Paraclete,  the  name  thou  bearest, 
Gift  of  God  the  choicest,  dearest, 
Love,  and  fire,  and  fountain  living. 
Spiritual  unction  giving. 
Shower  thy  benedictions  seven 
From  thy  majesty  in  heaven. 

Be  the  Savior's  word  unbroken, 
Let  thy  many  tongues  be  spoken  ; 
In  our  sense  thy  light  be  glowing, 
Through  our  souls  thy  love  be  flowing ; 
Cause  the  carnal  heart  to  perish. 
But  the  strength  of  virtue  cherish, 
Till,  each  enemy  repelling. 
And  thy  peace  around  us  dwelling, 
We,  beneath  thy  guidance  glorious, 
Stand  o'er  every  ill  victorious. 

THE  BROOK  KEDRON. 

"He  went  over  the  brook  Kcdron  with  his  disciplea."    Saint  John. 

The  Vale  of  thy  Brook,  of  Life's  valley  so  drear, 
Meet  emblem,  dark  Kedron,  might  be. 

As  it  swelled  in  its  hurried  and  horrid  career 
To  the  depths  of  a  desolate  sea : 
Unceasingly  fed  with  the  blood  of  the  slain 

From  the  Temple's  far  height  was  its  flow, 


76  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1830. 

Till  it  seemed  like  some  wounded  and  wandering  vein 
That  was  lost  in  the  distance  below. 

There  David  went  over,  and  wept  as  Ee  went ; 

There  his  Son  in  his  sorrow  passed  o'er, 
And  his  garments  were  dipped  in  its  crimson  descent. 

Like  a  warrior's,  wading  in  gore  ; 
And,  wrapped  in  forebodings  of  anguish  and  woe, 

It  heightened  that  vision  of  pain, 
When  the  blood  of  a  mightier  Victim  should  flow, 

And  the  Lamb  of  the  promise  be  slain. 

Now,  Kedron,  for  ages  thy  course  has  been  dried, 

And  thy  sands  are  unmarked  with  a  stain, 
Since  the  Victim  ordained  from  eternity  died, 

And  the  Lamb  of  the  promise  was  slain ; 
The  pilgrim  now  passes  dry-shod  o'er  thy  bed, 

And  the  thought  to  his  spirit  may  lay. 
He  who  drank  of  the  brook  hath  relifted  his  head, 

And  hath  borne  our  transgressions  away  ! 


1830. 


Early  in  1830,  a  plan  for  altering  the  chancel  arrangements 
of  Christ  Church,  which  had  been  agitated  during  the  preceding 
autumn,  began  to  take  a  definite  shape  ;  and  the  proprietors  of  the 
church,  at  a  meeting  called  for  the  purpose,  appointed  the  rector 
and  wardens  to  take  measures  for  raising,  by  subscription,  the  requi- 
site means,  and  for  carrying  the  project  into  effect.  The  subscrip- 
tions being  filled,  the  church  was  closed  after  the  14th  of  March ; 
and  such  was  the  delay  in  completing  the  new  arrangements,  that 
it  was  not  reopened  for  divine  service  until  the  6th  of  .Tune.  But 
this  caused  no  remission  of  the  duties  of  the  rector.  The  regular 
services  were  held,  through  the  kindness  and  courtesy  of  the  ma- 
sonic fraternity,  in  their  hall,  wliich  afforded  very  suitable  accom- 
modations; and,  either  there  or  in  some  of  the  neighboring  churches, 
he  continued,  three  times  on  every  Sunday,  to  supply  the  pulpit  or 
the  reading  desk.  Nor  were  liis  pastoral  labors  in  the  slightest 
degree  diminished.  Tlie  affairs  of  the  parish  were  becoming  daily 
more  and  more  prosperous,  and  the  calls  fin-  special  duties  were 
constantly  increasing.  For  reasons  already  given,  the  baptism,  as 
well  of  adults  as  children,  constituted  a  large  portion  of  these 
duties;  and  in  noting  the  baptism  of  the  first-born  son  of  his  friend 
and  brother  Doane,  on  the  17th  of  October,  he  incidentally  remark'- 


1830.]  CHRIST   CHURCH.  77 

"  It  makes  the  ninety-ninth  baptism  I  have  administered  since  I  liave 
been  in  Christ  Church." 

There  is  a  pecuhar  pleasure  in  inserting  here  his  well-merited 
testimony  to  the  worth  of  a  gentleman  now  nniversally  known  in 
the  Church  as  an  early,  ardent,  and  zealous  advocate  of  the  cause 
of  missions  —  the  Hon.  E.  A.  Newton,  of  Pittsfield,  Mass.  On 
the  15th  of  .Tanuary,  he  accompanied  this  gentleman  and  his  brother 
DoANE  to  a  neighboring  parish,  for  the  purjiose  of  organizing  an 
association  auxiliary  to  the  General  Missionary  Society.  After 
giving  an  account  of  the  religious  exercises  of  the  evening,  he  says, 
"  Mr.  Newton  made  an  eloquent  address  to  the  congregation  explan- 
atory of  the  object  of  the  visit,  and  requesting  an  expression  of 
their  approbation  of  the  designs  of  the  society."  In  writing  to  his 
father,  he  adds,  "  Mr.  Newton  is  one  of  nature's  own  noblemen,  a 
Christian,  a  Ciiurchman,  and  a  gentleman.  He  was  long  in  India, 
and  knew  Middleton,  and  Heber,  and  Corrie,  and  all  the  other 
famous  missionary  men  in  those  parts.  His  spirit  there  first  kindled 
up  with  a  zeal  for  the  cause  ;  and  with  the  highest  ardor  and  decis- 
ion of  character,  he  unites  the  firmest  and  most  uncompromisinsf 
attachment  to  the  distinctive  principles  of  the  Church." 

We  now  come  to  a  scrap  of  personal  history,  which  it  is  the 
more  desirable  to  preserve,  as  it  may  possibly  constitute  nearly 
all  the  ancestral  lore  which  the  Croswell  family  may  find  it  prac- 
ticable to  collect.  In  the  autumn  of  1829,  the  rector  of  Christ 
Church  had  discovered,  by  a  singular  accident,  that  there  was  a 
person  residing  in  Boston  bearing  his  own  name.  This  person  had 
taken  one  of  his  letters  from  the  post  office,  and  had  broken  the 
seal,  before  he  discovered  that  it  was  addressed  to  the  Rev.  Williaivi 
Croswell.  He  immediately  sent  it  by  a  mutual  friend  to  its  proper 
address,  apologizing  for  the  mistake,  and  requesting  an  interview. 
After  some  delay,  which  is  sufficiently  explained  in  the  following- 
correspondence,  this  interview  finally  took  place.  The  following 
note,  from  the  elder  Williajvi  Croswell,  is  written  in  a  remarka- 
bly formal  round  hand,  rather  stift',  but  neat  and  well  defined,  and 
much  resembling  the  old  style  of  copperplate  writing  copies  :  — 

Boston,  October  23,  1899. 
Sir :   Some  weeks  past,  N.  G.  Snelling,  Esq.,  informed  me  that  you  and 
he  intended  to  visit  me  together.     I  was  not  then  so  well  as  usual.     My 
health  is  now  better ;  and  it  will  be  agreeable  to  my  sister  and  myself  to 
receive  a  visit  when  you  think  proper. 

I  am,  sir,  yours, 
JVIr.  Croswell.  W.  CROSWELL. 

"The  following,"  says  the  rector,  in  his  diary,  January  18,  "is  a 
copy  of  a  note  addressed  to  my  venerable  cognomiual,  William 
Croswell,  of  Bedford  Street  :  — 


78  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CEOSWELL.  [1830. 

Dear  Sir :  I  hope  my  neglect  to  acknowledge  your  kind  favor  of  October 
last  will  not  be  misconstrued.  It  was  received  just  as  I  was  on  the  point  of 
leaving  town,  and  in  my  absence  it  was  accidentally  mislaid.  If  it  be  not 
too  late,  however,  to  avail  myself  of  the  privilege  then  offered,  I  shall  be 
happy  to  wait  upon  you  on  Wednesday  morning,  in  company  with  our  mutual 
friend,  Mr.  Snelling.  In  my  academical  days,  my  attention  was  arrested 
by  your  work  on  the  mathematics,  in  such  a  way  as  almost  to  make  me  for 
the  moment  distrust  my  own  identity ;  and  I  have  been  exceedingly  desirous 
of  making  your  acquaintance  ever  since  I  knew  of  your  residence  in  the  city. 
I  am  not  so  familiar  with  our  table  of  consanguinity  as  I  could  desire  ;  but  I 
make  no  doubt,  from  the  coincidence  of  our  names,  that  the  data  furnished 
by  an  interview  would  authorize  me  to  subscribe  myself  your  kinsman,  as 
well  as  Your  respectful  friend  and  namesake, 

WILLIAM  CROSWELL. 

Winthrop  Place. 

Boston,  Tuesday,  January  19,  1830. 
Sir :  As  my  hearing  is  somewhat  impaired,  there  was  a  strange  mistake 
respecting  your  billet.     It  will  be  agreeable  to  my  sister  and  myself  to 
receive  a  visit  to-morrow  morning. 

I  am,  sir,  yours, 
Mr.  Croswell.  "  W.  CROSWELL. 

Of  this  interview  the  description  is  exceedingly  graphic,  and, 
without  douht,  perfectly  accurate  to  the  letter.  '■'■Wednesday ,  Janu- 
ary 20.  At  half  past  ten,  waited  on  Mr.  Snelling,  who  was  to 
accompany  me  to  my  relative  in  Bedford  Street.  I  was  ushered 
into  an  upper  room,  betraying  evident  marks  of  poverty,  but  with 
some  beautiful  specimens  of  penmanship  garnishing  the  walls,  and 
Croswell's  View  of  the  Starry  Heavens  on  a  large  map  of  Mer- 
cator's  projection.  My  old  prototype  stood  before  me,  nearly  as 
tall  as  myself,  but  much  dilapidated,  poorly  clad,  and  his  shoes 
down  at  tlie  heels.  There  seems  to  have  been  a  premature  break- 
ing up  of  the  system,  as  he  is  but  little  turned  of  sixty  years.  The 
few  hairs  that  are  left  upon  his  head  are  white,  but  showed  no  dis- 
position to  crisp  ;  but  all  the  other  characteristics  of  the  species  are 
decisively  developed,  and  in  his  sister,  who  is  younger  than  himself, 
are  still  more  distinctly  marked.  There  is  the  high  forehead,  the 
long  nose,  the  gray  eyes,  and  the  longitude  of  thumb.  There  is 
the  low  voice,  and,  above  all,  in  the  male  kind,  the  peevish  and 
irritable  temper  which  we  all  have  to  struggle  with.  The  old  gen- 
tleman was  in  a  disordered  frame  of  mind  ;  but  he  promised,  at 
some  future  time,  to  give  me  a  detailed  account  of  what  he  knew 
about  us.  I  gathered,  however,  some  interesting  particulars  before 
I  left  them.  The  first  of  our  stock,  Thomas  Croswell,  came 
from  Staftordshire,  in  England,  during  the  usurpation  of  the  Round- 
heads. Being  detected  in  some  scrape,  he  fled  on  board  a  ship 
bound  for  tliis  country,  and  settled  in  Charlestown.  He  married 
Priscilla  Upham,  a  woman  of  eminent  piety,  by  whom  he  had  one 
son,.]osEPH,  and  seven  daughters.  He  acquired  a  handsome  estate, 
and  maintained   a  fair   and    reputable  character.      His  son  Joseph 


1830.]  FAMILY  REMINIftCEXC'ES.  79 

married  Abigail,  daughter  of  Andrew  Stimpson,  of  Cliarlestown, 
by  whom  he  had  five  sons,  Thomas,  Andrew,  Caleb,  Benjamin, 
and  Joseph.  Andrew  was  liberally  educated,  and  settled  as  a 
Congregationalist  in  this  city.  William  and  his  sister  are  his  chil- 
dren. They  showed  me  his  portrait,  rather  the  worse  for  wear,  but 
a  very  good  painting  notwithstanding.  It  was  taken  when  he  was 
forty  years  of  age,  and  is  said  to  have  been  a  likeness.  According 
to  this,  he  was  a  full-faced  man,  with  a  sparkling  gray  eye,  a  respec- 
table nose,  and  a  pleasant  expression  about  the  mouth.  A  printed 
account  (which  I  was  told,  however,  was  not  to  be  entirely  relied 
on)  states  of  the  other  brothers  that  '  Caleb  died  while  at  Cam- 
bridge University;  Thomas  and  Benjamin  were  mechanics.  Thomas 
settled  and  died  in  South  Carolina.  Benjamin  settled  and  died  in 
Groton,  Connecticut.'  Our  grandfather  may  have  been  his  son. 
Of  .Joseph,  the  youngest,  born  March  12,  (O.  S.,)  1712,  I  was 
presented  with  a  memorial,  with  this  title  :  '  Sketches  of  the  life, 
and  extracts  from  the  journals  and  other  writings,  of  the  late  Joseph 
Croswell,  who,  for  more  than  forty  years,  was  an  itinerant  preacher 
in  the  New  England  States,  and  who  died  at  Bridgewater,  Massa- 
chusetts, May,  1799,  in  the  8Sth  year  of  his  age.'  '  He  was  pre- 
paring,' says  his  biographer,  '  for  an  university  education,  in  which 
he  made  laudable  progress.  But  such  was  his  diffidence  of  him- 
self, that  he  declined  the  public  education  for  which  he  had  become 
quahfied,  and  served  an  apprenticeship  to  a  (horresco  referms  !^ 
'  —  a  baker.'  The  old  gentleman  says  it  should  be,  a  barber. 
He  became  a  merchant,  failed,  was  thrust  into  prison,  '  but  though 
unfortunate,  did  not  incur  the  guilt  of  dishonesty.'  He  was  con- 
verted instantaneously,  in  his  thirty-first  year,  at  Groton,  Conn.,  '  on 
Friday,  the  26th  of  3Iarch,  about  half  an  hour  after  two  o'clock, 
P.  M.'  '  Before  that  time,  he  had  been  habitually  under  alarming 
and  serious  impressions,  which  were  at  times  exceedingly  strong 
and  distressing.  But  all  was  not  sufficient  to  control  a  naturally 
impetuous  and  irascible  temper.''  He  was  one  of  the  most  conspicu- 
ous of  the  new  lights,  rode  probably  three  thousand  miles  a  year, 
and  preached  as  many  sermons  per  annum.  He  was  a  most  extrav- 
agant and  fanatical  ranter,  but  his  papers  show  a  great  deal  of  talent 
and  imagination.  I  meet  with  this  entry  in  his  diary  for  '  May  3, 
1776.  As  I  was  journeying  from  Boston,  stopped  in  Charlestown, 
and  took  a  survey  of  Prospect  Hill,'  (a  delightful  eminence  between 
this  and  Cambridge,  with  a  windmill  on  the  top  of  it,)  'formerly 
owned  by  my  father,  and  the  place  of  my  nativity.  Viewed  the 
mansion  house,  which  I  found  turned  into  a  sort  of  garrison,'  &c. 
He  had  a  son  and  daughter.  The  son  was  in  the  army,  and  signed, 
it  is  said,  the  commission  under  which  the  first  armed  vessel  acted 
against  (ireat  Britain,  in  behalf  of  the  Plymouth  peojjle.  I  will 
procure   a  copy  of  this  book,  to   be  laid   up  in   tiie   archives,   and 


80  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1830. 

perhaps  it  may  help  to  account  for  preaching  three  times  a  day 
coming  so  natural.  The  old  lady  showed  me  a  little  silver  cup  of 
her  grandfather's.  She  said  that  the  Croswells  all  had  a  restless 
propensity,  were  all  born  with  a  pen  in  their  hands,  that  but  few 
of  them  had  talents  for  making  or  keeping  money,  but  that  all  she 
knew  or  had  heard  of  bore  very  respectable  characters."  * 

On  the  first  return  of  the  anniversary  of  his  admission  to  dea- 
con's orders,  he  is  found  thus  pouring  out,  in  his  private  journal, 
and  at  the  same  time  in  a  letter  to  his  father,  the  feehngs  of  a 
heart  deeply  imbued  with  a  sense  of  the  sacredness  of  his  calling  : 
"  Monday,  January  25.  This  is  the  anniversary  of  St.  Paul's  con- 
version, and  also  ('  Alas  for  me,  if  I  forget !  ')  the  anniversary  of 
my  being  set  apart  for  the  ministrv  of  the  church  of  God. 
The  year  has  been  full  of  incident,  and  marked  with  the  most 
solemn  transactions  of  my  whole  life.  I  believe  I  did  not  put  my 
hand  to  this  work  without  realizing,  in  some  sense,  the  momentous 
relations  and  awful  responsibilities  of  those  who  watch  for  souls  as 
they  that  must  give  account,  nor  without  a  clear  conviction  of  the 
duty  and  privilege  of  assuming  these  relations  and  responsibilities. 
I  would  put  down  nothing  on  this  subject  for  effect,  or  in  a  spirit 
of  vainglory ;  but  I  desire  to  record  my  testimony,  that  this  holy 
calling,  if  diligently  and  faithfully  undertaken  and  devotedly  fol- 
lowed, is  the  path  of  life,  which,  for  our  own  happiness,  we  should 
choose  and  covet,  and  contains  all  the  elements  of  the  purest  and 
highest  enjoyment  which  the  corruption  and  infirmity  of  our  nature 
admit.  I  have  always  refrained,  on  principle,  from  making  a  dis- 
play of  my  private  religious  feelings  on  paper,  lest  I  should  thereby 
be  tempted  to  give  way  to  the  movings  of  spiritual  pride  and  self- 
righteousness  ;  and  I  dare  not  trust  myself  to  speak  of  the  satis- 
faction and  delight  which  he  cannot  but  feel  whose  duty  and  whose 
glory  it  is  to  preach  Christ  crucified,  and  wiio  would  direct  every 
thought,  wish,  and  desire  to  the  work  of  subduing  evil  and  saving 
souls.  I  have  been  deliberately  reviewing  the  principles  laid  down 
in  my  first  discourse  on  this  subject ;  and  though,  alas  !  no  man 
living  can  be  justified  by  that  standard,  I  am  confirmed  by  my  short 
experience  in  the  opinion,  that  the  views  which  I  then  took  are 
those  only  which  are  autliorized  by  the  Scriptures  of  truth." 

Price  Lectures.  These  lectures  were  founded  on  the  last  will 
and  testament  of  Mr.  William  Price,  a  respectable  book  and 
print  seller  in  Boston,  and  a  devoted  Churchman,  who,  in  the  year 
1770,  bequeathed  an  estate,  in  trust,  for  certain  purposes,  the  prin- 
cipal of  which  was  the  support  of  a  course  of  sermons  to  be  preached 

*  William  Choswell  died  on  tlie  7th.  of  July,  1834. 


1830.J  CHRIST   CHURCH.  81 

annually  in  Lent ;  for  which  purpose  sixteen  pounds  sterhng  were 
every  year  to  be  appropriated.  The  subjects  of  these  lectures, 
eight  in  number,  the  days  on  which,  and  the  persons  by  whom 
they  were  to  be  preached,  are  minutely  specified  in  the  will.* 
The  preachers,  at  this  time,  were  the  rector  and  assistant  minis- 
ter of  Trinity  Church,  and  the  rector  of  Christ  Church ;  the  place, 
Trinity  Church.  The  will  directs,  with  ciiaracteristic  benevolence, 
that  after  each  lecture  there  shall  be  made  a  contribution  for  the 
poor,  into  which,  at  each  time,  five  shillings  sterling  shall  be  put 
by  the  church  wardens ;  the  whole  proceeds  to  be  divided,  on 
Good  Friday,  between  the  ministers  and  wardens  of  the  parishes 
interested  in  the  lectures,  for  the  use  of  the  poor.  The  second  and 
sixth  of  the  series,  the  present  year,  were  allotted  to  the  rector  of 
Christ  Church.  The  first  of  these  was  on  the  Miracles  of  Christ  : 
John  vii.  31.  "  When  Christ  cometh,  will  he  do  more  miracles  than 
these  which  this  man  hath  done  ? "  He  says,  in  a  letter  to  his 
father,  "  My  idea  was,  to  cluster  the  miracles  in  such  a  way  as  to 
present  a  most  striking  aspect,  and  to  make  the  inference  from  them 
to  the  truth  of  Christianity,  and  the  divinity  of  the  Savior,  most 
direct  and  irresistible."  So  well  did  he  succeed  in  this  object,  that 
he  was  afterwards  told  that  a  Unitarian  minister,  who  was  present, 
made  several  remarks,  which,  he  adds,  "  were  quite  too  flattering  for 
my  modesty  to  transfer  to  paper."  The  other  lecture  was  on  Con- 
tentment :  1  Timothy  vi.  6.  "  Godliness  with  contentment  is  great 
gain." 

In  the  month  of  April,  he   made  a   short  visit  to  Connecticut, 


*  The  following  is  au  extract:  "And  I  hereby  clu-ect  that  the  said  eight 
annual  Sermons  be  preached  on  the  following  subjects,  viz. :  1st,  Sermon  on 
Ash  "Wednesday,  (the  service  to  begin  about  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,) 
upon  the  duty,  usefulness,  and  propriety  of  fasting  and  abstinence,  or  upon 
Repentance,  or  Faith,  or  Hope,  or  Charity,  or  Chi-istian  Morality.  The  2d. 
Sermon  on  the  second  "Wednesday  in  Lent,  at  Eleven  o'clock  before  noon ;  the 
Sermon  to  be  against  Atheism,  or  Infidelity,  or  in  defence  of  the  Divinity,  or 
Miracles,  of  om- "blessed  Saviour.  The  3d.  Sei-mon  on  the  third  Wednesday  in 
Lent,  at  Eleven  o'clock  in  the  forenoon;  the  subject,  the  Catholic  Church, 
or  the  Excellency  of  the  Christian  Religion.  The  4th  Sennon  on  the  fourth 
Wednesday  in  Lent,  at  Eleven  o'clock  in  the  forenoon,  the  Sennon  to  be  a 
Vindication  of  the  Church  of  England,  as  to  Government,  Doctrine,  or  Dis- 
cipline, or  a  discourse  against  Heresy  or  Schism,  Enthusiasm  or  H}i)ocrisy,  or 
on  the  duty  of  Obedience  to  Kmgs  and  lawful  authority,  fi-om  all  persons 
professing  Christianity.  The  oth  Sermon  on  the  fifth  We"dnesday  in  Lent,  at 
Eleven  o'clock  in  the  forenoon,  against  Error  and  Superstition,  particularly 
those  of  the  Church  of  Rome.  The  sixth  Sermon  on  the  sixth  ^^'ednesday  in 
liCnt,  at  Eleven  o'clock,  in  the  forenoon,  on  Detraction  or  Restitution,  or  on 
Contentment  and  Resignation,  or  on  preparation  for  Death.  The  7th  Sermon 
on  the  seventh  Wednesday  in  Lent,  at  Eleven  o'clock  in  the  forenoon,  pn 
Baptism,  or  Coiafession,  or  Absolution,  or  on  the  Duty  of  PubUc  ^\'orship. 
The  8th  Sermon  on  Good  Friday,  at  three  o'clock  in  "the  afternoon,  on  the 
Passion  and  Death  of  Ckrist,  or  "of  the  nature,  necessity,  and  advantages  of 
the  Holv  Communion." 

11 


8:2  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1830. 

leaving  Boston  on  the  ITth,  and  returning  on  the  29th.  His  visits 
homeward  were  always  full  of  enjoyment,  as  he  was  ever  ready  to 
testify.  But  in  the  present  case,  it  afforded  him  but  little  relaxa- 
tion of  his  labors.  On  each  of  the  two  Sundays  included  in  the 
time,  he  took  the  entire  service  of  the  church  in  Stratford.  He 
also  preached  on  a  Wednesday  evening  in  New  Haven,  and,  on  the 
22d,  was  present  and  read  morning  prayer  at  the  consecration  of 
St.  Paul's  Chapel. 

On  the  week  preceding  the  reopening  of  Christ  Church,  he  ac- 
companied the  bishop,  with  a  few  of  the  clergy,  to  Leicester,  some 
fifty  miles  from  Boston,  to  preach  at  the  institution  of  the  Rev.  Lot 
Jones,  and  to  participate  in  the  other  services  of  the  day.  In 
speaking  of  these  services,  he  pays  the  following  Avell-deserved  trib- 
ute to  Mr.  Jones  :  "  He  is  one  of  the  most  faithful  and  devoted  sons 
of  the  Church  now  living.  In  this  little  parish,  which  stands  all 
alone  by  itself  in  the  midst  of  a  crooked  and  perverse  generation, 
he  has  made  his  influence  radiate  in  every  direction.  It  was  a  day 
I  shall  never  forget,  as  one  of  the  days  of  the  right  hand  of  the 
Most  High.  He  has  been  there  a  year,  and  has  already  baptized 
twenty-nine  adults,  some  in  the  church  and  some  in  the  living 
stream.  His  communion  has  grown  from  nine  to  sixty.  Thirty- 
three  persons  were  confirmed."  Mr.  Jones  yet  lives  to  do  the 
Church  good  service,  having  been  transferred  to  a  missionary  sta- 
tion in  the  city  of  New  York,  where  he  has  fully  sustained  the 
character  here  ascribed  to  him. 

On  Trinity  Sunday,  June  6,  Christ  Church  was  reopened  for 
divine  service ;  and  the  rector  not  only  bore  the  whole  burden  of 
the  day,  but,  in  the  evening,  rode  to  South  Boston  with  the  Rev. 
Mr.  CoiT,  where  he  had  appointed  a  missionary  lecture,  and  read 
prayers  for  the  third  time.  On  his  return,  he  wrote  his  weekly 
epistle  to  his  father.  The  day  was  unpleasant;  but  the  assemblage 
was  large,  and  every  thing  conspired  to  excite  the  deepest  interest 
on  the  part  of  the  congregation.  The  following  original  Hymn, 
prepared  by  the  rector  for  the  occasion,  was  performed  by  the  choir 
with  fine  effect :  — 


Awake,  O  Arm  divine !     Awake, 

Eye  of  the  Only  Wise  ! 
For  Zion  and  the  Temple's  sake, 

Savior  and  God,  arise  ! 
So  shall  our  hour  of  gloom  be  o'er, 

And  we,  a  happy  throng, 
Wake  in  her  hallowed  aisles  once  more 

The  breath  of  sacred  song. 


1830.]  CHRIST   CIILTRCII. 

To  thee  we'll  lift  our  grateful  voice, 
To  thee  our  offerings  bring, 

And  with  a  glowing  heart  rejoice 
To  hail  thee  God  and  King. 

God  of  our  fathers !  still  be  ours  ; 

Thy  gates  Avide  open  set, 
And  fortify  the  ancient  towers 

Where  thou  with  them  hast  met. 
Thy  guardian  fire,  thy  guiding  cloud, 

Still  let  them  gild  our  wall, 
Nor  be  our  foes  nor  thine  allowed 

To  see  us  faint  and  fall. 
The  worship  of  the  glorious  past 

Swell  on  from  age  to  age. 
And  be,  while  time  itself  shall  last, 

Our  children's  heritage. 


August  15  is  recorded  in  his  diary  as  "  a  most  delightful  and 
solemn  day,"  the  Right  Rev.  Bishop  Grisvv^old  having  administered 
confirmation  in  Christ  Church  to  thirty-nine  persons,  and,  he  adds, 
"none  of  them  children." 

The  month  of  September  is  marked  by  the  announcement  of 
two  most  afflictive  dispensations.  On  Sunday,  the  5th,  a  report 
was  received  of  the  death  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Gardiner,  rector  of 
Trinity  Church,  in  England,  whither  he  had  gone  for  the  benefit 
of  his  health ;  and  before  the  grief  produced  by  this  event  had 
scarcely  had  time  to  subside,  it  was  followed  by  another,  —  the  death 
of  the  Right  Rev.  Bishop  Hobart,  —  still  more  distressing,  inas- 
much as  it  was  less  expected,  and  the  deceased  was  overtaken  in 
the  midst  of  the  active  duties  of  his  office.  The  following  letter 
will  tell  how  deeply  the  visitation  aftected  the  heart  of  the  writer :  — 

"Boston,  Monday  Morninr/,  September  20,  1830. 
"  My  dear  Father  :  The  death  of  Bishop  Hobart  has  made 
us  all  desolate  and  heart-broken.  It  has  thrown  a  gloom  over  our 
minds  with  which  I  had  thought  nothing  but  the  sundering  of  some 
dear  domestic  tie  could  have  overwhelmed  me.  Though  letter  after 
letter  from  New  York  had  been  gradually  extinguishing  our  hopes, 
the  fatal  announcement  burst  upon  us,  after  all,  like  a  thunderbolt, 
and  I  sat  down  and  wept  like  a  child.  I  have  renewed  my  grief 
day  by  day,  as  the  papers  of  the  city  disclose  some  new  testimony 
of  the  universal  mourning  and  woe  with  which  this  calamity  has 
filled  all  sorts  smd  conditions  of  men.  Their  columns  are  occu- 
pied with  the  tributes  of  aftection  and  veneration  for  his  memory, 
and  show  how  properly  that   inestimable  loss  is  appreciated.      But 


84  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1830. 

we  sorrow  not,  blessed  be  God,  as  those  without  hope.  He  died 
as  he  had  hved,  and  as  every  Christian  bishop  would  desire  to  die. 
The  full  account  of  his  last  moments,  from  Dr.  Rudd,  exhibits  a 
glorious  triumph  of  that  religion  which  carried  him  faithful  to  the 
very  death.  He  has  fought  a  good  fight,  he  has  finished  his  course, 
he  has  kept  the  faith  ;  henceforth  there  is  laid  up  for  him  a  crown 
of  life.  We  may  bless  God's  holy  name  for  one  more  servant 
departed  this  life  in  his  faith  and  fear,  and  beseech  him  to  give  us 
grace  so  to  follow  his  good  example,  that  with  him  we  may  be  par- 
takers of  his  heavenly  kingdom.  Mr.  Doank  preached  a  most 
eloquent  and  effective  sermon  on  the  occasion,  in  the  morning.  I 
exchanged  with  him  in  the  afternoon,  and  preached  on  Hebrews 
xiii.  14  :  '  For  here  we  have  no  continuing  city,  but  we  seek  one 
to  come.'  After  alluding  to  the  death  of  Dr.  Gardiner,  I  went  on 
to  say,  '  While  we  have  not  yet  recovered  from  the  stunning  stroke 
of  a  dispensation  which  so  tremblingly  teaches  u§  how  frail  and 
uncertain  is  the  tenure  of  our  citizenship  here,  a  still  more  recent 
calamity  calls  upon  us  to  renew  our  lamentations  with  the  whole 
united  Church  of  God  in  this  land,  over  the  bereavement  of  one 
of  its  most  faithful  guides  and  distinguished  ornaments.  Of  all  the 
eminent  servants  of  God  whom  a  season  of  unusual  mortality  has 
summoned  to  their  reward,  the  death  of  the  Right  Rev.  Bishop 
HoBART,  of  New  York,  in  the  midst  of  his  indefatigable  and  abun- 
dant labors,  is  calculated  to  call  forth  our  deepest  sympathy,  and  to 
overwhelm  us  with  feelings  of  the  most  acute  and  poignant  sorrow. 
We  can  form  no  estimate  of  that  incalculable  loss.  The  reputation 
of  his  name,  the  splendor  of  his  talents,  the  purity  of  his  life,  the 
sanctity  of  his  oflice,  the  eminence  of  his  station,  and  the  conse- 
crated lustre  of  his  whole  public  career,  have  inspired  respect  and 
veneration  wherever  they  were  known.  But  many  can  tell  how 
these  feelings  were  lost  in  the  still  deeper  emotion  of  affection  and 
love,  as  intercourse  taught  them  the  charity  of  his  heart,  the  sweet- 
ness of  his  disposition,  the  amenity  and  simplicity  of  his  manners, 
and  the  delights  of  his  intimate  conversation.  In  him  the  genius 
of  true  Christianity  might  be  seen  at  once  reflected  ;  and  he  has 
left  us  a  model  of  spiritual  exaltation  without  pride,  and  of  elevated 
piety  without  austerity,  which  no  age  can  destroy.  Alas  !  for  our 
sakes,  that  even  for  him  there  is  here  no  continuing  city.  He  now 
lives  only  in  the  memory  and  hearts  of  his  survivors,  who  have  this 
day  assembled  by  thousands  to  muse  on  his  illustrious  example,  and 
to  kindle  the  flames  of  a  vital  and  energetic  piety  at  the  ashes 
which  are  yet  scarcely  cold.  His  sun  was  in  its  meridian  power, 
and  its  warmth  most  genial,  when  it  was  suddenly  eclipsed  forever. 
He  fell  as  the  standard  bearer  of  the  Cross  should  ever  wish  to  fall, 
by  no  lingering  decay,  but  in  the  firmness  and  vigor  of  his  age,  and 
in  the  very  act  of  combat  and  of  triumph.      His  Master  came  sud- 


1830.]  CHRIST   CIIURCII.  95 

clenly,  and  found  liim  faitlifnl  in  his  charge,  and  waiting  for  his 
a[)|)earing.  He  was  tliat  faithful  and  wise  steward  whom  his  Lord 
had  made  ruler  over  his  household,  to  give  them  their  portion  of 
meat  in  due  season.  And  O,  blessed,  eternally  blessed,  is  that 
servant  whom  his  Lord,  when  he  came,  found  watching.  His  eye 
had  not  waxed  dim,  nor  had  his  natural  force  abated  ;  and  death, 
after  no  long  suffering,  has  removed  him  from  a  life  of  the  most 
intense  labor  and  anxiety  to  the  repose  and  blessedness  of  heaven. 
He  has  put  off  his  earthly  mitre  for  the  crown  incorruptible.  He 
has  laid  aside  his  sacerdotal  robes  for  the  pure,  unblemished  mar- 
riage garment.  He  hears  the  inexpressive  nuptial  song.  With  his 
loins  girt,  and  his  lamp  burning,  he  has  gained  an  entrance  where 
the  Bridegroom  and  His  friends  passed  to  bliss  in  the  mid  hour  of 
niglit,  happy  in  having  entirely  devoted  his  great  powers  to  the  vast 
spiritual  interests  over  which  he  presided;  happy  in  being  the  min- 
ister of  salvation  to  ages  yet  unborn  ;  happy  in  having  established 
a  name  before  which  all  the  future  generations  of  the  land  shall 
rise  up  and  call  it  blessed.  .  .  .  It  is  in  such  awful  spectacles 
of  mortality,  that  we  see  how  frail  and  uncertain  our  own  condi- 
tion is,  and  read  most  emphatically  the  admonition,  "  Be  ye  also 
ready." '  O,  pray,  my  dear  fother,  that  it  may  not  be  lost  upon  us. 
Do  not  make  any  public  use  of  this  extract.  I  send  it  merely 
because  my  heart  is  full  of  the  subject,  and  I  know  it  is  one  on 
which  we  can  mingle  our  warmest  sympathies  together. 

"  Our  centennial  celebration  was  very  imposing  indeed ;  but  my 
feelings  were  out  of  harmony  with  it,  and  I  thought  of  Xerxes,  as 
he  looked  at  his  great  army,  or  of  that  plaintive  call  of  the  herald 
at  those  celebrations  in  Greece  which  took  place  every  hundred 
years,  '  Come  to  the  solemnities  which  no  living  eye  hath  seen,  and 
which  no  living  eye  can  see  again.' " 

It  should  be  borne  in  mind,  that  when  these  sentiments  were 
penned,  it  was  more  than  twenty  years  before  the  writer's  decease, 
and  when  he  was  in  the  very  freshness  and  vigor  of  early  manhood. 
The  labor  of  life  Avas  all  before  him,  and  a  brief  experience  was  all 
that  he  had  to  foreshadow  his  future  cares  and  responsibilities.  But 
he  wrote  as  he  felt ;  and  when  he  saw  before  him  the  bright  example 
of  the  sainted  Hobart,  it  was  but  natural  that  he  should  indulge 
some  faint  and  trembling  hope  that  he  might  be  permitted  to  follow, 
though  at  humble  distance,  in  the  luminous  footsteps  of  such  a 
leader.  How  far  this  hope  was  ever  realized,  those  can  best  judge 
who  saw  him,  at  the  close  of  life,  called  away  to  his  reward  in  a 
manner  even  more  sudden  and  striking,  in  the  very  field  of  labor, 
and  clad  in  all  his  armor. 

In  the  month  of  October,  while  contemplating  a  visit  homeward, 


86  MEMOIR   OF   WILLIAM   CliOSWELL.  [1830. 

in  addressing  his  mother,  he  affects  to  "  transcribe  a  verse  or  two 
out  of  a  popular  poem  book."  Not  being  aware  of  the  existence 
of  sucli  a  book,  the  verses  are  inserted  without  attempting  to  decide 
whether  they  are  or  are  not  original. 

O,  when  shall  I  be  restored 

To  the  place  that  is  kept  for  me 
Around  the  hearth,  and  around  the  board, 

In  my  father's  family  ? 

When  shall  my  mother's  eye 

My  coming  footsteps  greet 
With  a  look  of  days  gone  by, 

Tender  and  gravely  sweet  ? 

I  know,  when  the  prayer  is  said, 

That  for  me  warm  bosoms  yearn, 
For  me  fond  tears  are  shed ! 

O,  when  shall  I  return  ? 

On  Monday,  the  27th  of  December,  he  writes  as  follows  :  "  I 
have  had  as  happy  a  Christmas  as  is  consistent  with  the  perform- 
ance of  five  successive  services,  and  the  effects  of  the  clouds  and 
darkness  which  are  round  about  it.  On  the  whole,  I  do  not  know 
that  I  ever  felt  more  comfortably  on  a  Monday  morning  than  at  this 
present  writing  ;  and  the  successful  discharge  of  the  arduous  but 
delightful  duties  of  the  week  have  relieved  my  mind  of  a  great 
weight,  and  put  me  in  quite  a  delectable  frame." 

After  giving  s^me  account  of  his  several  sermons,  on  Christmas 
Eve  and  the  two  succeeding  days,  he  speaks  of  having  prepared  two 
Hymns  for  the  occasion,  which  were  sung  to  appropriate  music  in 
his  own  and  two  other  churches  in  Boston.  Of  these  Hymns,  the 
following,  from  the  Episcopal  Watchman  of  January  1,  is  the  first, 
and  the  other  will  be  found  on  page  65,  of  this  work. 


1. 

Glad  tidings  waft  once  more. 
Angels,  who  hymned  of  yore 

Messiah's  birth ; 
Sing,  voices  of  the  sky, 
As  in  those  times  gone  by, 
Glory  to  God  on  high, 

Peace  on  the  earth  ! 


1880.]  CHRIST  CHURCH.  87 

2. 

O  bright  and  burning  star, 
Be  not  from  us  afar, 

Distant  nor  dim ; 
Lead  our  frail  feet  aright, 
Silent,  but  shining  light. 
As  on  that  hallowed  night, 

Guide  us  to  Him. 

3. 

Give  thou  tliy  people  grace, 
Savior !  who  seek  thy  face 

This  favored  day. 
Incense  and  odors  sweet  • 

May  not  thy  coming  greet. 
But  hearts  are  at  thy  feet ; 

Turn  not  away. 


For  in  thy  blessed  shrine 
Each  garland  we  intwine 

Incense  shall  breathe. 
As  each  before  thee  lies. 
Emblem  of  souls  that  rise 
Heavenwards,  where  never  dies 
Thy  fadeless  wreath. 


The  following  lines  are  found  among  his  manuscripts,  under  date 
of  1830,  but  have  probably  never  been  published.  They  refer  to 
the  weathercock  on  the  spire  of  the  place  of  worship  at  the  North 
End,  Boston,  then  occupied  by  a  Unitarian  society. 


OLD  NORTH   COCK. 

Roosted  upon  his  ancient  ball. 

Last  night,  sat  the  Old  North  cock. 

In  the  midst  of  a  terrible  north-east  squall 
Which  made  the  steeples  rock. 

And  waked  the  watchmen,  one  and  all, 
As  the  bell  tolled  twelve  o'clock. 

With  head  erect  and  unruffled  form, 

The  hearty  and  tough  old  cock. 
Through  wind  and  rain,  and  cold  and  warm, 


88  MEMOIR   OF   WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [183L 

All  weathers  continues  to  mock  ; 
And  he  whisked  him  round  to  face  the  storm, 
And  breasted  himself  to  the  shock. 

O  image  of  triple  guilt,*  quoth  I, 

I  should  very  much  like  to  know 
If  you  have  a  bit  of  reason  why, 

While  all  these  changelings  here  below, 
Like  Peter  of  old,  their  Lord  deny, 

You  never  was  known  to  crow. 

Whist !  whist !  quoth  chanticleer,  you're  slow ; 

How  could  I  crow  so  fast,  sir, 
As  these  my  fickle  friends  below. 

And  each  misguiding  pastor, 
And  the  Priestly  f  men  who  teach  them  ?o. 

Deny  their  Lord  and  Master  ? 


1831. 

The  record  of  this  year  is  not  remarkahly  full.  In  his  diary 
there  is  a  large  hiatus,  extending  from  the  middle  of  .Tanuary  to  the 
beginning  of  October  ;  and  during  the  remainder  of  the  time,  the 
entries  are  little  else  than  brief  sketches  of  his  daily  duties  and 
services.  But  the  deficiency  is  in  some  measure  su|3plied  by  his 
correspondence  ;  and  although,  for  reasons  already  stated,  it  would 
be  improper  to  draw  largely  upon  this  correspondence,  it  may, 
nevertheless,  furnish  many  facts,  incidents,  and  reflections,  as  aids 
in  conducting  the  narrative. 

January  2,  he  writes,  that,  after  having  performed  his  customary 
round  of  three  full  services,  he  finds  himself  able  to  sit  down  and 
prepare  a  Hymn  for  the  Howard  Benevolent  Society.  Of  this 
Hymn  the  following  copy  is  taken  from  a  manuscript  collection :  — 


Lord,  lead  the  way  the  Savior  went. 

By  lane  and  cell  obscure. 
And  let  love's  treasure  still  be  spent, 

Like  His,  upon  the  poor ; 
Like  Him,  through  scenes  of  deep  distress 

Who  bore  the  world's  sad  weight, 
We,  in  their  crowded  loneliness. 

Would  seek  the  desolate. 

t  An  obvious  pun  on  the  name  of  the  great  ai^ostle  of  Unitarianism. 


1831.1  CHRIST   CHURCH.  89 

For  Thou  hast  placod  us  side  by  side, 

In  this  wide  world  of  ill ; 
And,  that  thy  followers  may  be  tried, 

The  poor  are  with  us  still. 
Mean  are  all  offerings  we  can  make; 

Yet  Thou  hast  taught  us,  Lord, 
If  given  for  the  Savior's  sake. 

They  lose  not  their  reward. 

Anionj;^  the  occurrences  of  the  year,  the  commencement  of  a 
new  Church  periodical  in  Boston  may  be  here  noted.  The  plan  of 
a  monthly  magazine  having  been  previously  relinquished,  a  number 
«)f  clergymen  and  laymen  of  the  diocese  conferred  together,  from 
time  to  time,  on  the  expediency  of  establishing  a  weekly  paper,  to 
be  afforded  at  a  low  price,  for  the  purpose  of  securing  an  extensive 
circulation,  and  thus  promoting  the  interests  of  the  Church.  After 
some  ineffectual  attempts  to  secure  the  services  of  an  editor,  the 
two  friends  consented,  though  evidently  with  much  reluctance,  to 
undertake  the  work  themselves.  Under  this  arrangement,  the  first 
number  was  issued,  by  Messrs,  Stimpson  and  Clapp,  on  the  3d  of 
September.  It  was  a  neat  little  "folio  of  four  pages,"  entitled  The 
Banner  of  the  Church.  The  contents,  in  prose  and  verse,  were 
chiefly  original,  and  were  generally  contributed  by  one  or  the  other 
of  the  two  friends.  Some  of  the  poetical  productions  of  the  junior 
editor  had  been  previously  published ;  but  others  appeared  for  the 
first  time  in  the  Banner.  From  both  of  these  sources  a  few  speci- 
mens may  be  gathered.  Of  those  transferred  from  other  publica- 
tions, the  following  may  be  deemed  peculiarly  worthy  of  preser- 
vation, though  the  writer  speaks  of  it  to  his  father  in  the  language 
of  apology.  It  was  called  forth  by  the  death  of  Colonel  Putnam, 
a  most  highly  esteemed  and  venerable  member  of  the  Church  in 
Brooklyn,  Conn.,  and  was  transmitted  to  the  daughter  of  the  de- 
ceased, the  late  Mrs.  Sumner,  of  Hartfiird,  with  the  following 
apologetic  note  :  "  The  melancholy  subject  on  which  I  wrote  you 
last  has  pressed  much  upon  my  mind  since ;  so  much  so,  that  it  has 
been  one  cause,  perhaps,  of  unfitting  me  for  doing  better  justice 
to  your  honored  father's  memory.  I  have  waited  for  leisure  to  do 
better  ;  but  this  has  been  denied  me,  and,  as  I  now  foresee,  must 
be  denied  me  for  a  long  time  to  come.  After  so  much  unseasona- 
ble delay,  1  submit  this  hasty  eft'usion  (for  such  it  truly  is)  to  your 
disposal  with  fear  and  trembling.  But  however  I  may  have  failed, 
I  know  you  will  appreciate  my  motives." 
12 


90  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1831. 

ON  THE   DEATH   OF  AN  AGED   SERVANT  OF   GOD. 

"Fortunate  Senex." 

I  was  in  spirit  with  the  crowd 

Who  stood  around  thy  bier, 
When  grief,  though  deep,  was  yet  not  loud, 

As  each  in  turn  drew  near. 
And,  mutely  bending,  o'er  and  o'er 

Fond  kindred  lips  were  pressed 
Upon  thy  placid  brow,  before 

They  laid  thee  to  thy  rest. 

No  stain  upon  thy  clear  renown, 

Descended  from  the  brave, 
Brought  thy  gray  hairs  with  sorrow  down, 

Tried  veteran !  to  the  grave  ; 
We  saw  thee  hastening,  calm  and  sage, 

On  to  thy  perfect  day, 
And,  in  thy  green  and  good  old  age, 

Serenely  fade  away. 

Peace  to  thy  patriarchal  dust ! 

From  yon  old  solemn  shrine 
Breaks  forth  a  tone  of  loftiest  trust 

That  better  things  are  thine  ; 
Thy  light  shone  ever  there  to  bless, 

And  on  thy  hoary  head. 
Found  in  the  way  of  righteousness, 

A  crown  of  glory  shed. 

Nursed  in  her  aisles,  and  truly  taught 

By  her  to  live  and  die, 
Our  grief  finds  refuge  in  the  thought 

That  there  thou  still  art  nigh  ; 
It  treasures  there  a  precious  store 

For  sweet  and  soothing  calm. 
To  read  thy  favorite  prayers,  and  pour 

The  same  victorious  psalm. 

Thus  shall  thy  memory  be  a  spell 

Of  strong  but  silent  power, 
Within  the  church  thou  lov'dst  so  well. 

And  round  thy  household  bower ; 
Yea,  every  spot  is  sanctified. 

Amid  this  vale  of  tears. 
Where  thou,  for  heaven,  hast  laid  aside 

The  burden  of  thy  years. 


1831 


CHRIST   CHURCH.  91 


The  following  is  one  of  liis  earlier  productions,  and  was  first 
published  in  the  Watchman,  in  1827,  and  copied  into  several  papers^. 
It  was  now  republished  in  the  Banner,  under  the  author's  own 
revision. 

CLOUDS. 

"  Cloud  land  I  gorgeous  land  1 "    Cole  ridoe  • 

I  cannot  look  above,  and  see 

Yon  high-piled,  pillowy  mass 
Of  evening  clouds,  so  swimmingly 

In  gold  and  purple  pass, 
And  think  not,  Lord,  how  Thou  wast  seen 

On  Israel's  desert  way. 
Before  them,  in  thy  shadowy  screen, 

Pavilioned  all  the  day ;  — 

Or  of  those  robes  of  gorgeous  hue 

Which  the  Redeemer  wore. 
When,  ravished  from  his  followers'  view, 

Aloft  his  flight  he  bore  ; 
When,  lifted  as  on  mighty  wing. 

He  curtained  his  ascent. 
And,  wrapped  in  clouds,  went  triumphing 

Above  the  firmament. 

Is  it  a  trail  of  that  same  pall 

Of  many-colored  dyes 
That  high  above,  o'ermantling  all. 

Hangs  midway  down  the  skies  ? 
Or  borders  of  those  sweeping  folds 

Which  shall  be  all  unfurled 
About  the  Savior,  when  he  holds 

His  judgment  on  the  world  ? 

For  in  like  manner  as  he  went  — 

My  soul,  hast  thou  forgot  ?  — 
Shall  be  his  terrible  descent. 

When  man  expecteth  not. 
Strength,  Son  of  man !  against  that  hour. 

Be  to  our  spirits  given, 
When  Thou  shalt  come  again,  with  power, 

Upon  the  clouds  of  heaven. 


92  MEMOIR   OF  AVILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1831. 

The    following    has    probably    never    appeared,   except    in    the 
Banner. 

A  NIGHT  THOUGHT.* 

Pet  lilies  of  your  kind, 

Effeminate  and  pale. 
That  shiver  in  the  autumn  wind, 

Like  reeds  before  the  gale, 
Ye  have  not  toiled  or  spun. 

As  sister  lilies  might, 
Nor  are  ye  wise  as  Solomon, 

Though  sumptuous  to  the  sight. 

O  fair,  and  well  arrayed ! 

And  are  ye  they  to  whom 
The  world  is  under  tribute  laid 

For  finery  and  perfume  ? 
And  have  ye  no  delight. 

Nought  else  that  may  avail, 
To  weather  that  eternal  night, 

When  these  expedients  fail  ? 


This  also  was  among  his  first  contributions  to  the  Banner :  — 
CHARITY  HYMN. 

"  Freely  ye  have  received,  freely  give." 

Thou  who  on  earth  didst  sympathize 

With  mortal  care  and  fear. 
And  all  the  frail  and  fleshly  ties 

That  man  to  man  endear, 
The  sorrower's  prayer,  the  sufferer's  sighs 

Still  reach  Thy  gracious  ear. 

Though,  pierced  by  many  a  pang  below. 

The  heart  may  sorely  ache, 
Touched  with  a  feeling  of  our  woe, 

A  bond  no  time  can  break, 
Thou  wilt  not  leave  us,  Lord !  we  know 

Thou  never  wilt  forsake. 

*  See  Young,  Night  Second,  lines  232-263. 


1831.]  CHRIST   CHURCH.  93 

Freely  Thou  givest,  and  tliy  word 

Is  freely  to  impart ; 
And  oft  as  from  that  law  we've  erred 

With  unfraternal  heart, 
The  deeper  let  us  now  be  stirred 

To  be,  even  as  Thou  art. 


With  the  opening  of  the  Banner,  the  editors  commenced  a  series 
of  papers,  under  the  title  of  The  Christian  Year,  (suggested  by 
Keble's  work,)  which  was  kept  up,  with  very  little  interruption,  to 
the  end  of  the  volume.  The  pieces  which  constituted  this  series 
were  partly  in  prose  and  partly  in  verse,  some  selected  and  some 
original,  while  others  were  contractions  or  variations  of  some  of 
the  longer  pieces  of  Keble.  They  were  all  designed  to  explain 
and  illustrate  the  services  of  the  Sundays  and  holy  days  of  the 
Church  throughout  the  year.  The  few  poetical  productions  here 
selected  are  found  among  the  manuscript  collections  of  the  junior 
editor. 


SAINT  ANDREW'S   DAY. 

O  Savior,  for  whose  blessed  sake 

Saint  Andrew  left  his  all, 
Beside  the  Galilean  lake, 

As  soon  as  Thou  didst  call ; 
Grant  us,  thy  servants,  later  born. 

That  grace  which  led  thee  first 
To  bear  the  cross  of  shame  and  scorn. 

And  to  endure  the  worst. 

While  skiif,  and  net,  and  hempen  coil, 

The  tackle  and  the  oar. 
Remind  us  of  their  patient  toil. 

The  fisher's  part  who  bore, 
O,  teach  us  what  our  work  must  be, 

Their  fellowship  to  win, 
Who  follow  them  and  follow  thee, 

In  holy  discipline. 

And  let  no  follower  come  alone, 
But  each  his  kindred  bring. 

As  Andrew  did,  to  see  and  own 
On"  common  Lord  and  Kinor ; 


94  MEJilOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSVVELL.  [1831. 

To  count,  like  him,  all  gain  but  loss, 

To  tread  temptation  down, 
And,  through  the  triumph  of  the  cross. 

Secure  a  glorious  crown. 


HYMN  FOR  SAINT  MATTHEW'S  DAY. 


"And  as  Jesus  passed  forth,  he  saw  a  man  named  Matthew  sitting  at  the 
receipt  of  custom,  and  he  saith  unto  him.  Follow  me ;  and  he  arose  and 
followed  him."  Gospel  for  the  Day. 


By  Babel's  piles,  how  heavenly  fair 

To  see  God's  light  dispel, 
With  beams  divine,  the  stifled  air 

Of  Mammon's  gloomiest  cell ! 
It  cheers  tlie  soul  that  even  there 

Our  holy  faith  may  dwell, 
And  thrive  amid  the  dreary  glare 

Of  this  world's  citadel. 

There  still  the  Savior  makes  his  call. 

Drowned  though  the  accents  be ; 
O  "  Lord,  make  Matthews  of  us  all," 

To  rise  and  follow  thee ; 
To  leave  whate'er  we  prize  as  gold ; 

Our  treasure  and  our  heart 
Transfer,  where  we  may  safe  behold 

Earth  and  her  idols  part 

Thus,  as  our  feet  through  labyrinths  glide, 

O,  let  thy  voice  sublime 
Be  heard  above  the  stunning  tide 

Of  human  care  and  crime  ; 
And  as  our  busy  task  is  plied 

By  dusky  lane  and  mart, 
Its  unction  ever  there  abide 

Like  music  in  the  heart. 


I 


1831.]  CHRIST  CHURCH.  95 


LAST   SUNDAY  IN  ADVENT. 


"  Rejoice  in  the  Lord  alway ;  and  again  I  say,  Rejoice.    The  Lord  is  { 
hand."  Epistle  for  the  Day. 


Now  gird  your  patient  loins  again, 

Your  wasting  torches  trim  ; 
The  Chief  of  all  the  sons  of  men  — 

Who  will  not  welcome  him  ? 
Rejoice  !  the  hour  is  near ;  at  length 

The  Journeyer  on  his  way 
Comes  in  the  greatness  of  his  strength 

To  keep  his  holy  day. 

With  cheerful  hymns  and  garlands  sweet, 

Along  his  wintry  road, 
Conduct  him  to  his  green  retreat. 

His  sheltered,  safe  abode  ; 
Fill  all  his  courts  with  sacred  songs, 

And  from  the  temple  wall 
Wave  verdure  o'er  the  joyful  throngs 

That  crowd  his  festival. 

And  still  more  greenly  in  the  mind 

Store  up  the  hopes  sublime 
Which  then  were  born  for  all  mankind, 

"  So  blessed  was  the  time  ; " 
And  underneath  these  hallowed  eaves 

A  "  Savior  will  be  born  " 
In  every  heart  that  him  receives 

On  his  triumphal  morn. 


THE  EPIPHANY. 


"  And  when  tli^ y  had  opened  their  treasures,  they  presented  unto  him 
gifts  i  gold,  and  frankincense,  and  myrrh."  Gospel  for  the  Day. 


We  come  not  with  a  costly  store, 

O  Lord !  like  them  of  old, 
The  masters  of  the  starry  lore. 

From  Ophir's  shores  of  gold  ; 
No  weepings  of  the  incense  tree 

Are  with  the  gifts  we  bring, 
Nor  odorous  myrrh  of  Araby 

Blends  with  our  ofFerinsr. 


96  ilEMOIR  OF  WILLIAM   CKOSWELL.  [183L 

But  still  our  love  would  bring  its  best : 

A  spirit  keenly  tried 
By  fierce  affliction's  fiery  test, 

And  seven  times  purified  ; 
The  fragrant  graces  of  the  mind, 

The  virtues  that  delight 
To  give  their  perfume  out,  will  find 

Acceptance  in  thy  sight. 


SECOND   SUNDAY  AFTER  THE  EPIPHANY. 


"  This  beginning  of  miracles  did  Jesus  in  Cana  of  Galilee,  and  manifeste 
forth  his  glory,  and  his  disciples  believed  on  him."     Oospel  for  the  Day. 


O  humblest  and  happiest  bridal  of  earth ! 

O  Cana  of  Galilee,  blest 
With  the  sanction  of  Christ  for  thine  innocent  mirth, 

Thou  first  saw  his  glory  confessed ! 
A  glory  enlivening  the  festival  board. 

Increasing  its  generous  store. 
And  cheering  the  hearts  that  in  wonder  adored, 

Till  the  cup  of  their  gladness  ran  o'er. 

And  who  will  unbless  what  the  Savior  has  blest  ? 

What  being  of  arrogant  mould 
Will  dare  at  the  bridal  where  He  is  a  guest, 

The  cup  of  his  favor  withhold  ? 
And  why  are  thy  bounties,  O  Master !  disdained, 

When  thy  smile  so  indulgent  will  be. 
If  with  conscience  unwounded,  and  spirit  unstained. 

They  remind  us  of  Cana  and  Thee  ? 


QTJINQUAGESIMA   SUNDAY. 

Poor,  and  desolate,  and  blind. 

Like  the  wayside  wanderer,  we, 
Savior !  by  thy  grace  inclined. 

Fain  would  guide  our  steps  to  thee. 
'Mid  the  tumult  of  mankind, 

Still  in  love  thou  passest  by ; 
Still  let  those  who  seek  thee  find ; 

Hear  our  never-ceasing  cry. 


1831.]  CHRIST  CHURCH.  97 

Darkly  throiigli  our  glass  we  see  ; 

Shadows  wVap  our  loveliest  day  ; 
Lovelier  will  the  vision  be 

When  the  scales  shall  fall  away. 
Savior,  though  a  tenfold  night 

O'er  the  outward  sense  should  roll, 
Brighter  let  thy  cloudless  light 

Shine  forever  in  tlie  soul. 


SECOND   SUNDAY  IN  LENT. 

Thou  who,  for  forty  days  and  nights,  o'ermastered  all  the  might 
Of  Satan,  and  the  fiercest  pangs  of  famished  appetite,  — 
O  Savior !  leave  us  not  alone  to  wrestle  with  our  sin, 
But  aid  us  in  these  holy  hours  of  solemn  discipline. 

Let  not  the  tempter  tempt  us.  Lord,  beyond  our  strength  to  bear, 
Though,  in  the  desert  of  our  woe,  he  wildly  shrieks,  "  Despair ! " 
Let  not  our  humble  confidence  be  in  thy  promise  stirred. 
Nor  clouds  of  dark  distrust  spring  up  between  us  and  thy  word. 

Nor  let  us  yet  be  lifted  up  by  him,  the  prince  of  air. 
To  scale  presumption's  dizzy  height,  and  left  to  perish  there ; 
Nor  on  the  temple's  pinnacle,  in  our  self-righteous  pride, 
Be  set  for  thee  to  frown  upon,  and  demons  to  deride. 

And  O,  Avhen  pleasure,  power,  and  pomp  around  our  vision  swim, 
And,  through  the  soft,  enchanting  mist,  he  bids  us  worship  him. 
Assist  us  from  the  revelling  sense  the  sorcerer's  spell  to  break, 
And  tread  the  arch  apostate  down.  Redeemer !  for  thy  sake. 

From  his  correspondence  of  this  year,  some  allusions  may  be  gath- 
ered witli  regard  to  an  incident,  the  memory  of  which  is  recalled  with 
peculiar  interest  and  unmingled  satisfaction,  as  furnishing  pleasing 
evidence  of  his  disinterested  kindness,  and  his  natural  disposition 
to  encourage  the  opening  indications  of  genius  and  merit.  He 
received  letters  of  introduction,  by  the  hand  of  George  Whiting 
Flagg,  a  young  artist  of  New  Haven,  who  was  on  a  visit  to  iiis 
uncle,  the  late  Washington  Allston,  the  celebrated  historical 
painter,  then  residing  and  pursuing  his  profession  at  Cambridge. 
Flagg  was  at  this  time  scarcely  fifteen  years  of  age,  but  he  had 
already  made  commendable  progress  in  portrait  painting.  From 
his  very  eiiildliood,  indeed,  his  passion  for  the  art  was  entirely 
uncontrollable,  and  absorbed  all  his  energies.  Sketching  and 
drawing  took  precedence  of  every  other  pursuit ;  and  long  before 
13 


98  ISIEMOIR   OF  AYILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1831. 

he  became  a  proficient  in  penmanship  or  any  other  branch  of 
schoolboy  learning,  he  was  wont  to  portray  the  imagery  of  his 
thoughts  on  canvas.  His  first  interview,  and  its  results,  are  thus 
announced,  under  date  of  August  14 :  "  He  vvon  my  heart  at  first 
sight ;  and,  operated  upon  by  his  irresistible  grace,  I  went  straight- 
way down  to  his  rooms  to  sit  for  my  portrait.  It  is  the  first  call 
that  he  has  had  for  this  purpose ;  and  as  he  wishes  to  have  his  rep- 
utation rest  upon  it,  he  is  taking  great  pains  with  it,  and  I  think 
will  make  an  excellent  likeness.  He  has  two  little  fancy  pieces  at 
the  AthenfBum  exhibition,  which  opens  to-morrow.  I  have  intro- 
duced him  to  several  of  my  friends,  who  are  professed  patrons  of 
the  fine  arts,  and  who  will  give  him  all  encouragement.  His  pas- 
sion for  his  pencil  is  marvellous ;  and  I  know  not  whether  most  to 
admire  the  maturity  of  his  conceptions  or  the  rapidity  of  his  execu- 
tion. I  think  he  is  quite  an  offset  to  my  little  musical  prodigy.  I 
have  brought  them  together.  Flagg  was  delighted  with  her  per- 
formance ;  and  we  have  made  arrangements  for  her  to  sit  for  a 
little  cabinet  piece,  which  he  will  execute  in  his  best  style." 

On  the  21st  of  August  he  again  writes  :  "  Flagg  confines  me 
pretty  closely  with  his  portrait,  but  has  now  nearly  completed  it. 
It  is  exceedingly  well  done,  and  is  said  to  be  a  likeness.  As  he 
has  hardly  received  any  notice  from  other  quarters,  I  have  been  a 
good  deal  occupied  in  cari-ying  him  about  the  suburbs.  His  child- 
like simplicity  and  genuine  devotion  to  his  art  make  him  a  delight- 
ful companion,  and  I  hope  he  will  continue  as  unsophisticated  from 
his  acquaintance  with  the  world.  He  enjoyed  our  visits  to  Pine 
Bank  and  Naiiant  rarely,  and  kept  me  clambering  up  and  down  the 
ledges,  at  the  latter  place,  all  the  while  we  were  there,  though  one 
of  the  warmest  days  of  the  season.  He  has  in  hand  a  small  cabi- 
net piece,  for  which  my  '  little  correspondent '  was  the  sitter,  and 
which  he  considers  as  the  best  thing  he  has  done.  This  is  for  me, 
and  will  be  a  beautiful  picture." 

Again,  on  the  28th,  he  writes  :  "  Little  Flagg  has  finished  my 
picture,  which  is  a  better  performance  than  any,  he  thinks,  that  he 
has  ever  befi»re  executed.  I  have  been  the  means  of  filling  his 
hands  with  business,  and  he  is  very  grateful  for  the  attention  which 
he  has  received  from  me.  ...  In  the  mean  time,  he  improves 
very  rapidly,  and,  when  known,  will  be  nuich  noticed  and  caressed. 
He  is  indeed  a  delightful  boy." 

Thus  was  it  his  pleasure  to  introduce  this  young  and  devoted 
artist,  who  was  yet  in  his  mere  boyhood,  to  friends,  to  favor,  and  to 
patronage  ;  and  he  had  the  gratification  of  knowing,  in  after  years, 
that  his  confidence  had  not  been  misplaced  ;  that  the  talents  and 
genius  of  his  youthful  friend  had  not  been  overrated  ;  and  that  his 
highest  anticipations  had  all  been  realized.  G.  W.  Flagg  was  soon 
distinguished  in   his  art,   while  confined  chiefly   to   portraits ;   and 


1831.]  CHRIST   CllUliCII.  99 

having  afterwards  turned  liis  attention  more  particularly  to  histori- 
cal painting",  he  has  ])roduced  a  variety  of  pieces  vvliich  place  liim 
in  a  high  position  in  this  branch  of  his  art,  and  will  secure  him  an 
enviable  reputation  among  the  men  of  genius  of  tlie  present  age. 

It  may  be  well  to  introduce  in  this  place  a  brief  notice  of  the 
child  whose  picture  Flagg  was  engaged  in  painting,  and  of  whom 
her  pastor  speaks  in  the  preceding  extracts  as  his  "  little  musical 
prodigy,"  and  as  his  "  little  correspondent."  This  child,  from  a 
very  early  age,  had  manifested  an  extraordinary  devotion  of  sjjirit, 
a  remarkable  tenderness  of  conscience,  and  an  ardent  love  of 
religion  and  of  the  services  of  the  Church.  Her  taste  for  music 
had  been  much  cultivated  at  the  age  of  eight  or  nine  years,  and 
she  had  acquired  an  ease  and  readiness  in  epistolary  composition 
seldom  or  never  witnessed  in  so  young  a  person.  Her  indications 
of  early  piety  had  induced  an  over-fond  relative  to  suggest,  and 
rather  urge,  the  propriety  of  her  admission  at  once  to  confirmation 
and  the  holy  conmiunion.  From  this  course,  however,  she  was 
easily  dissuaded  by  her  fiiithful  friend  and  pastor.  But  though  she 
delayed  to  a  more  appropriate  season  the  outward  and  public  pro- 
fession of  her  faith,  she  never  neglected  for  a  moment  the  regular 
and  systematic  exercise  of  her  religious  duties.  The  following 
letter,  addressed  to  this  child,  and  copied  by  permission,  will  serve 
to  show  as  well  her  pastor's  high  appreciation  of  her  character,  as 
his  remarkable  faculty  of  adapting  his  instructions  to  ever)^  class 
and  age,  from  the  tender  lambs  to  the  mature  members  of  his  flock. 
It  is  a  gratification  to  add,  that  the  child  of  this  period  is  now,  and 
has  been  for  several  years,  a  most  worthy,  intelligent,  and  exem- 
plary member  of  the  holy  communion  of  the  Church. 

"Boston,  May  4,  1831. 
"  My  dear  little  Friend  :  You  may  be  sure  that  I  shall  love 
the  notes  you  write,  as  well  as  the  notes  you  sing ;  and  I  do  not 
know  how  I  could  love  them  better.  You  may  be  sure,  too,  tha* 
if  you  try  to  be  good,  God  will  assist  you  to  be  so.  The  arms  of 
the  same  kind  and  gracious  Savior  who  once  took  up  the  little 
children,  put  His  hands  upon  them  and  blessed  them,  will  ever  be 
open  to  receive  all  of  the  same  tender  age.  O,  love  that  blessed 
Being  as  you  have  ever  loved  your  dearest  friends ;  for  He  has 
loved  you  even  more  than  they,  and  has  given  Himself  for  you,  that 
where  He  now  is,  there  you  may  hereafter  be  also.  Pray  to  Him, 
that  you  may  ever  continue  His  own  dutiful  claild,  pure,  peaceable, 
gentle,  and  easy  to  be  entreated.  So  will  your  heavenly  songs  ever 
delight  His  ear.  So  will  you  sing  in  His  temple  above,  with  the 
little  ones  who  sung  of  old  in  His  temple  below,  '  Hosanna  to  the 
Sou  of  David  ! ' 


100  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1831. 

"  I  have  many  things  to  say  to  you,  my  dear  child,  which  I  can- 
not write  even  with  a  '  silver  pen.'  '  It  may  be  better  told,'  as  one 
of  the  holiest  of  men  says,  'when  I  come  unto  you;  for  the  daugh- 
ter of  the  voice  is  better  than  the  son  of  ink,  and  it  is  a  good  time 
when  a  man  speaketh  face  to  face  with  his  friend.' 

"  God  bless  you  and  your  little  sister,  and  all  whom  you  most 
love.  Your  affectionate  friend, 

"WILLIAM  CROSWELL. 


To  the  same  child  he  addressed  the  following  stanzas  on  her 
eighth  birthday,  September  5,  18 —  :  — 

Steeped  in  the  soft  September  light, 

What  mellowing  hues  array 
The  forward  view!  —  so  pure  and  bright 

Be  all  thy  life's  long  day  ; 
A  dewy  lustre  thus  be  shed, 

A  sweet  and  soothing  calm 
Swim  in  thine  eye,  and  o'er  thy  head 

Fall  on  thy  soul  like  balm. 

May  Heaven  preserve  each  dainty  tress 

From  all  that  would  destroy. 
As,  in  thy  playful  restlessness. 

They  seem  to  share  thy  joy ; 
Good  angels  shelter  from  all  ills 

The  fast-maturing  grace, 
That  with  a  saddening  sweetness  fills 

Thy  penseroso  face. 

Oft  as  I  turn  from  year  to  year, 

And  days  of  absence  roll, 
I'll  bind  thy  vision,  made  more  dear 

By  memory,  to  my  soul ; 
I'll  pray  that  lie  by  whom  'twas  won 

Will  keep  thy  minstrel  boon, 
A  singing  heart,  in  unison 

With  every  darling  tune. 

The  following  letter,  in  answer  to  an  invitation  to  officiate  at  the 
anniversary  of  the  Ladies'  Bible  Societies,  in  Boston,  expresses,  in 
brief  but  plain  and  decided  terms,  the  sentiments  generally  held 
by  the  Church  on  the  subject  of  associations  constituted  in  confor- 
mity with  the  policy  of  the  American  Bible  Society. 


1831.]  CmilST   CHURCH.  101 

"  Dear  Madam  :  While  I  readilj  acknowledge  the  honor  intend- 
ed me  hy  the  ladies  of  the  Female  Bible  Society,  I  throw  myself 
upon  their  most  candid  construction,  in  declining  to  attend  their 
anniversary  on  the  Gth  proximo. 

"  With  regard  to  the  duty  and  privilege  of  aiding  in  the  circulation 
of  that  'glorious  gospel  of  the  blessed  God'  with  which  his  Church 
has  ever  been  inseparably  connected,  I  am  happy  to  believe  there 
is  no  difference  of  opinion  among  Protestants.  But  in  this,  as  in 
all  our  attempts  to  do  good,  regard  must  be  had  to  the  means,  as 
well  as  to  the  end  ;  and  it  was  an  early  lesson  of  my  childhood, 
which  has  strengthened  into  conviction  with  my  strength,  and  been 
fortified  by  the  opinion  of  a  long  line  of  saintly  men,  from  the 
Reformation  to  the  present  day,  that  the  indiscriminate  and  promis- 
cuous union,  for  religious  purposes,  of  the  maintainers  of  every 
opposite  sentiment,  only  serves  to  encourage  and  perpetuate  error. 
Painful,  therefore,  a.^  the  duty  is,  I  feel  that  I  could  not,  in  any  case, 
be  justified  in  shrinking  to  bear  my  testimony,  insignificant  as  it 
may  be,  against  the  practice. 

"  Trusting  that  my  motives  will  be  considered  in  their  true  light, 
I  beg  you  to  believe  that  I  am,  with  every  sentiment  of  respect  and 
esteem  M  the  intentions  of  the  society,  your  friend  and  servant  in 
the  faitli,  WILLIAM  CROSWELL." 

A  few  further  extracts  from  his  diary  and  letters  will  close  the 
record  of  the  present  year.  These  are  the  terms  in  which  he 
recommences  his  diary  on  the  4th  of  October.  The  passage  is 
inserted  to  show  with  what  untiring  energy  and  perseverance  he 
devoted  every  moment  of  his  time  to  duties,  either  voluntarily 
assumed  or  devolving  upon  him  in  the  regular  pursuit  of  his  calling. 

"  After  so  long  an  interval,  I  again  resume  my  journal,  with  the 
determination,  in  dependence  on  divine  grace,  not  to  intermit  a  day 
again,  so  long  as  God  shall  please  to  spare  me  ability.  The  press 
of  duty  upon  me  never  was,  and  probably  never  will  be,  greater 
than  at  this  moment.  The  care  of  a  laborious  and  difficult  parish, 
expecting  religious  services  thrice  on  the  Lord's  day,  with  much 
attention  in  the  course  of  the  week ;  the  superintendence  of  a 
weekly  periodical,  small  indeed,  but  on  that  account  the  more 
select ;  the  secretaryship  of  several  societies,  requiring  an  unusual 
amount  of  correspondence ;  together  with  all  my  own  private  let- 
ters, and  the  numberless  and  nameless  vexations  attendant  upon  all, 
leave  me  but  little  of  that  leisure  which  my  nature  and  tempera- 
ment make  so  luxurious.  But  there  is  a  rest  remaining  for  the 
{)eople  of  God.     May  it  be  mine  at  last." 

It  is  sufficient  to  say  of  this  journal,  for  the  remainder  of  the 
year,  that  what  is  here  compressed  into  a  brief  compass  is  but 
a  foreshadowing  of  the  minute   details  which  make   up  the  daily 


102  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CR0SWT5LL.  [1831. 

record.  Amitl  his  severe  and  nianifiild  labors,  however,  he  seldom 
complains  of  fati<jne  or  ill  health.  The  following  entry  is  the  only 
exception.  On  Sunday,  the  20th  of  November,  he  preached  twice, 
takinw  the  whole  service,  and,  in  the  evening,  read  the  prayers  for 
the  third  time.  Speaking  of  the  morning,  he  says,  "  Somewhat 
nervous  from  exhaustion ;  was  obliged  to  stop  for  some  minutes,  in 
the  second  lesson,  till  I  could  recover  myself"  He  closes  the  rec- 
ord of  the  day  :   "  Retired  early,  much  fatigued." 

Of  the  great  variety  of  topics  embraced  in  his  letters,  no  partic- 
ular classification  will  be  observed  ;  but  the  selections  will  follow 
generally  in  the  order  of  their  dates.  Hence,  a  grave  reflection,  a 
solemn  thought,  a  touching  allusion,  a  graphic  description,  a  vein 
of  ])leasantry,  may  be  brought  into  close  proximity,  as  called  forth 
by  passing  incidents,  which  cannot,  for  obvious  reasons,  be  given 
in  detail.  Here  is  a  caustic  sally,  drawn  out  by  a  correspondent, 
who  had  spoken  of  some  hostility,  in  a  certain  quarter,  to  Christ- 
mas decorations :  "  January  2.  Your  last  shows  a  breaking  out 
of  the  old  puritanical  spirit  in  a  new  place.  This  loathing  of 
Christmas  greenery  is  worthy  of  that  '  gang  of  canting  rogues  '  who 
broke  down  the  carved  work  of  the  sanctuary,  and  who,  forgetting 
that  we  had  bodies  as  well  as  spirits,  seemed  to  aim  to  make  reli- 
gion as  uncomfortable  and  nauseating  as  possible,  and  to  deprive  it 
of  every  thing  which  is  calculated  to  enlist  the  senses,  the  taste,  and 
the  imagination  on  its  side.  .  .  .  But  it  is  a  genial  time,  and 
sliould  be  prolific  of  every  thing  that  tends  to  elevated  and  refresh- 
ing associations." 

Here  is  a  piece  of  pleasantry,  addressed  to  his  mother,  February 
13,  on  the  subject  of  an  eclipse  of  the  sun  :  "  It  being  a  pleasant 
day  yesterday,  it  was  distinctly  understood  that  the  eclipse  was  not 
to  be  postponed.  Accordingly,  smoked  glass  was  the  circulating 
medium  all  the  morning,  and  the  glaziers  sold  more  broken  panes 
than  they  ever  mended.  Even  Master  Burke,  who  is  supposed  to 
be  the  most  wonderful  creature  now  living,  seemed  to  excite  less 
attention.  We  were  disappointed  in  the  spectacle.  After  so  long 
a  note  of  preparation,  and  attempt  at  effect,  it  was  quite  a  failure. 
We  wanted  it  to  be  darker.  I  had  intended  to  '  improve '  the  phe- 
nomenon, in  a  sermon,  to-day,  but  concluded  my  congregation  would 
think  me  at  a  great  loss  for  edifying  subjects,  if  I  made  so  much  of 
this  disastrous  twilight." 

From  his  own  account  of  his  parochial  labors,  it  will  be  suflrtcient 
to  make  an  occasional  extract.  The  following,  addressed  to  his 
father,  Sunday  evening,  March  6,  may  be  taken  as  a  specimen :  "  I 
am  quite  tired,  though  a  perfectly  well  man.  The  day  has  been 
dismal,  the  duty  arduous.  I  visited  two  Sunday  schools  this  morn- 
ing, prayed,  preached,  and  administered  the  communion.  During 
the  intermission,  I  visited  and  administered  the  communion  to  the 


1831.]  CHRIST   CHURCH.  103 

sick  ;  and  a«>aiii  prayed  and  preached  this  afternoon  and  evening. 
All  this  citnies  .after  a  \'ery  toilsome  week.  I  have  seen  more  dead 
and  dying  within  a  short  time,  in  our  parish,  than  during  all  the  rest 
of  my  ministry.  There  are,  at  this  moment,  several  cases  of  severe 
sickness,  arising  not  so  much  from  the  prevalence  of  any  single 
disease,  as  from  this  critical  season  of  the  year,  which  brings  so 
many  lingering  cases  to  a  fatal  conclusion.  We  find,  of  course, 
that  as  is  the  life,  so  generally  is  the  death.  It  is  delightful  to  visit 
the  sick  beds  of  those  who  have  passed  an  exemplary  Christian 
course,  and  have,  while  in  health,  made  their  peace  with  God  — 
whose  loins  are  girt,  and  whose  lamps  are  burning.  I  have  been 
called  to  communicate  their  situation  to  several  who  have  been  far 
gone  in  consumption  ;  and  I  have  had  much  evidence  of  the  diffi- 
culty of  making  persons  with  that  complaint  realize  their  bodily 
condition,  much  more  their  spiritual." 

The  same  letter  contains  a  brief,  but  just,  tribute  to  one  of  the 
most  distinguished  of  our  departed  bishops  :  "  Mightily  have  I  been 
confirmed  and  refreshed  over  the  volumes  of  Ravenscroft.  That 
saintly  man  was  truly  a  burning  and  a  shining  light;  and  would  have 
been,  in  the  most  glorious  eras  of  the  Church." 

In  a  letter,  dated  on  Easter  Monday,  he  mentions  the  fact,  that, 
including  the  Sundays,  he  had,  in  the  course  of  the  week  preceding, 
preached  seven  times,  and  read  twelve  entire  services,  besides  dis- 
charging considerable  other  parochial  duty;  and  yet,  he  says,  "I 
thank  God,  I  have  got  safely  through  with  it." 

Agreeably  to  the  practice  of  the  •  governors  of  Massachusetts, 
who  have  commonly  appointed  the  anilual  fast  during  the  festive 
season  of  the  Church,  and  on  a  day  never  recognized  as  a  fasting 
day,  the  appointment,  the  present  year,  was  on  the  Thursday  after 
Easter.  The  following  extract  from  a  letter  of  Sunday  evening 
after  Easter,  will  show  how  it  was  observed  by  the  rector  and 
congregation  of  Christ  Church:  "The  neighboring  clock  has  just 
struck  eleven  ;  and  the  ancient  and  quiet  watchman,  who  patroles 
this  well-ordered  part  of  the  town,  has  signified  that  '  all's  well.' 
Deep  sleep  hath  fallen  upon  all,  apparently,  roimd  about ;  but  I  feel 
so  fresh  and  wakeful,  that  I  have  no  inclination  to  follow  their 
example  ;  and  I  have  little  doubt  that  I  should  rest  the  better  when 
I  have  one  the  less  duty  to  discharge.  By  keeping  out  of  my  study 
as  much  as  possible,  I  have  com|)letely  recruited  myself  since  my 
last ;  though  I  have  not  been  able  to  get  through  the  week  without 
preaching,  on  Tuesday  evening  at  South  Boston,  and  again  on  the 
day  of  the  annual  fast.  But  though  I  submitted  to  this  last  ordi- 
nance of  man  for  the  Lord's  sake,  I  studiously  avoided  the  recog- 
nition of  it  as  a  day  of  humiliation.  1  gave  all  the  services  the 
character  which  belongs  to  the  festal  season  ;  for  I  could  not  con- 
sent to   put  our  little  flock   out  of  harmony  with  the  holy  Cliurch 


104  MEMOIR  OF  ^TLLLIAM   CROS^VELL.  [1831. 

throug;liout  the  world,  to  accommodate  the  narrow-minded  preju- 
dices of  the  founders  of  the  Bay  State." 

His  next  letter  gives  the  details  of  a  frightful  stage  accident, 
which  occurred  on  his  passage  from  Lowell  to  Boston.  The  stage, 
after  a  long  run,  was  upset  in  Charlestown,  and  nearly  demolished  ; 
but  though  there  were  nine  inside  passengers,  including  four  ladies, 
and  two  small  children,  and  four  outside,  none  of  them  were 
seriously  injured.  "An  hour  afterwards,"  he  says,  "I  could  not, 
and  do  not  now,  realize  as  I  ought  the  immediate  peril  to  which  I 
have  been  exposed,  and  the  marvellous  deliverance  which  has  been 
wrought  out  for  me." 

On  the  25th  he  writes,  "You  will  see  by  the  pa})ers  the  cir- 
cumstances of  brother  Doane's  institution,  [as  Rector  of  Trinity 
Church.]  It  was  a  most  solemn  transaction,  and  affected  me  deeply. 
I  had  not  entirely  recovered  from  the  agitation  of  my  escape ;  and 
I  have  not  been  so  overcome  by  my  feelings  at  any  solemnity  of 
the  kind  since  my  own  ordination." 

On  the  6th  of  June,  speaking  of  the  approaching  session  of  the 
diocesan  Convention,  he  says,  "  I  shall  have  an  encouraging  paro- 
chial report  to  present.  The  baptisms  alone  exceed  seventy,  ten  or 
twelve  of  whom  are  adults."  In  the  same  letter,  he  describes  a 
certain  irregular  proceeding  in  a  neighboring  church ;  a  portion  of 
which  is  selected,  not  so  much  for  the  purpose  of  casting  reproaches 
upon  others,  as  of  showing  his  own  extreme,  but  laudable  sensi- 
tiveness, on  the  subject  of  the  order  and  discipline  of  the  Church  : 
"  We  have  had  a  beautiful  performance  at ,  which  may,  per- 
haps, surprise  you;   but  here  we  are  surprised  at  notliing  from   that 

quarter.    I  allude  to  the  manner  in  which  thought  proper  to 

advance  the  cause  of  prisoii  discipline,  by  breaking  through  all  those 
rules   which   regulate   discipline   ecclesiastical.      .Tust   conceive,  for  a 

moment,  of  's  successor  stepping  into  tiie  desk,  in   a  thin 

undress,  reading  a  chapter,  setting  aside  '  common  prayer '  as  a 
sealed  book  and  a  dead  letter,  and  breaking  out  extemporaneously 
into  those  'jmcommon,'  and  until  lately  '  M«known  strains,'  with 
which  the  Congregational  houses  resound.  I  should  have  expected 
to  have  seen  something  ivhite  on  such  an  occasion,  if  it  were  but  the 
sjnrits  of  confessors  and  martyrs  reproachfully  flitting  through  the 
gloom,  or  to  have  heard  the  very  beams  crying  out  from  the  wall." 

The  following  extract  is  illustrative  of  some  of  the  most  inter- 
esting traits  in  his  character.  It  is  found  in  a  letter  addressed  to 
his  brother,  to  whom  he  had  presented  a  book  for  his  religious 
edification  :  "  No  man  can  read  it,  with  a  desire  to  be  instructed, 
and  not  feel  his  principles  of  piety  invigorated  and  confirmed,  and 
his  mind  refreshed.  I  hope  you  will  study  it  with  attention  and 
singleness  of  heart,  not  so  much  for  my  sake  as  for  the  object  with 
which  it  was  written,  the  attainment  of  a  religious  character.     It  will 


1831.]  CIIUI8T   CHURCH.  J05 

teach  you  how  to  lead  a  lioly  and  happy  life  here,  and,  by  adorning 
the  doctrine  of  God  your  Savior  in  all  things,  to  grow  in  meetness 
for  a  state  of  acceptance  and  perfect  bliss  hereafter.  It  is  now  the 
critical  and  turning  period  of  your  life.  It  is  the  time  of  your 
grealest  blessings  and  your  greatest  dangers.  The  evil  days  have 
not  yet  drawn  nigh,  and  sinful  habits  have  not  become  inveterate. 
Young  men  exhort  to  be  sober  minded.  You  are  so,  I  believe,  in 
the  main,  and,  I  trust,  not  far  from  the  kingdom  of  God.  Seek  it 
first,  seek  it  early,  and  you  shall  find  it.  There  is  nothing,  of 
course,  about  which  I  can  feel  so  much  solicitude,  as  that  ours  may 
be  a  household  fearing  God,  and  partakers  of  the  like  precious  faith 
together ;  that  we  may  be  bound  more  and  more  in  love,  now  our 
little  company  is  so  much  broken  down  ;  that  considering  how  we 
are  united  to  the  future  world  by  a  portion  of  ourselves'  already 
gone  thither,  we  may  live  as  heirs  of  the  same  glorious  inheritance, 
and  continue  throughout  eternity  with  those  to  whom  we  have  been 
so  tenderly  related,  a  family  in  heaven,  not  one  of  us  being  lost, 
in  that  day  when  our  Lord  maketh  up  his  jewels.  .  .  .  Our 
religion  was  not  intended  to  make  us  dismal  or  wretched,  but  to 
make  us  cheerful  within  the  limits  of  becoming  mirth.  Its  happy 
title  is,  the  promise  of  the  life  that  now  is,  and  of  that  wliich  is  to 
come." 

It  might  be  deemed  hardly  justifiable  to  draw  such  a  letter  as 
the  following,  addressed  to  his  cousin  Elizabeth  Sherman,  from 
the  privacy  of  domestic  custody,  were  it  not  accompanied  by  a 
subsequent  letter,  in  which  he  explains,  and  apologizes  for,  the 
sportive  and  playful  styre  which  many  might  suppose  inconsistent 
with  the  gravity  and  dignity  of  his  profession  :  — 

"Boston,  June  27,  1831. 
"My  DEAR  Cousin  :  Though  time  is  scarce,  I  cannot  spare  you 
any  longer.  I  dare  say,  you  take  it  very  unkind  that  I  have  neg- 
lected to  answer  your  last  letter  so  long.  I  know  you  consider 
yourself  but  as  an  indiflferent  scribe,  and,  because  I  have  taken  to 
writing  for  good  and  all,  think  I  might  write  to  you  a  great  deal 
oftencr.  Another  thing  which  I  dare  say  you  think  is,  that  I  ought 
to  be  thinking  of  coming  back,  as  it  does  not  look  well  for  young 
people  to  be  away  too  long  from  their  own  relations,  who  must,  in 
the  nature  of  things,  care  most  about  them.  I  dare  say,  you  are 
not  the  only  one  in  the  house  that  keeps  a-thinking  so.  I  think 
myself  that  it  is  possible  you  are  more  than  half  right,  and  will  not 
gainsay  it. 

"  Trust  me,  cousin  Bess, 
Full  many  a  day  my  memory  has  played 
The  creditor  with  me  on  your  account, 
And  made  me  shame  to  think  that  I  should  owe 
14 


106  MEMOm   OF  WILLLUI   CROSWELL.  [1831. 

So  long  the  debt  of  kindness.     But  in  truth, 

Like  Christian  on  his  pilgrimage,  I  bear 

So  heavy  a  pack  of  business,  that  albeit 

I  toil  on  mainly  in  one  twelve  hours'  race, 

Time  leaves  me  distanced.     Loath  indeed  were  I 

That  for  a  moment  you  should  lay  to  me 

Unkind  neglect.     Mine,  cousin,  is  a  heart 

That  smokes  not.     Yet  methinks  there  should  be  some 

Who  know  how  warm  it  beats.     I'm  no  sworn  friend 

Of  half  an  hour,  as  apt  to  leave  as  love. 

Mine  are  no  mushroom  feelings,  that  spring  up 

At  once,  without  a  seed,  and  take  no  root, 

Wiseliest  distrusted.     In  a  narrow  sphere, 

The  little  circle  of  domestic  life, 

I  would  be  known  and  loved.     The  world  beyond 

Is  not  for  me.     And,  Bessy,  sure  I  think 

That  you  should  know  me  well,  for  you  and  I 

Grew  up  together  ;  and  when  we  look  back 

Upon  old  times,  our  recollections  paint 

The  same  familiar  faces     .     .     .     and  so  on     .     .     . 


"  I  dare  say  you  are  all  delighted  witli  whatever  I  have  told  you 
delights  me.  I  dare  say  you  think  it  is  all  very  fine  and  very  grand, 
and  so  forth  ;  but  still,  if  I  don't  write  to  you  very  often,  and  I  don't 
come  home  very  often,  I  dare  say  you  will  still  begin  to  have  a  little 
half-wondering  kind  of  doubt  on  the  subject  of  my  remembering. 
To  tell  the  truth  honestly,  I  should  be,  if  I  ivere  you,  a  little,  if  it 
were  but  a  httle,  jealous,  lest  these  fine  things  and  fine  jjeople  should 
put  you  all  out  of  my  head,  even  when  you  are  too  just  to  suspect 
any  thing  of  the  kind.  Lack-a-daisy  !  if  you  knew  how  often  I  have 
a  sort  of  sailor-boy's  dream  in  the  broad  daylight,  and  think  what 
a  store  of  dehght  awaits  me  when  I  can  get  home  again,  and  tell 
you  the  histories,  omitted  in  my  letters,  '  of  all  1  have  seen.'  To 
think  of  the  bustle  in  anticipation  !  mother,  travelling  from  the  attic 
downwards,  smoothing  down  bed  quilts,  setting  chairs  at  the  precise 
angle  of  precision,  putting  the  contents  of  drawers  in  order,  wiping 
for  the  twentieth  time  every  scrap  of  furniture,  dusting  things  per- 
fectly free  from  dust,  and  stepping  into  the  kitchen  to  give  Hetty 
directions  ab^ut  puddings  and  pies,  watching  the  rumbling  of  every 
vehicle,  and,  when  the  Genuine  one  does  come,  what  a  meeting; 
what  a  greeting,  what  peals  of  salutation  from  every  direction  ! 
I  dare  not  read  over  what  I  have  written,  lest  I  should 
decide  to  burn,  instead  of  mailing  it." 

But  turn  now  to  his  apology.     Writing  again  to  his  cousin  within 
a  few  months,  he  says,  "  I  should  be  sorry  to  have  you,  or  any  that 


1831.]  cimisT  c'liriicji.  107 

I  hold  dear  at  home,  form  any  estimate  from  my  letters  of  the 
anxiety  and  interest  which  I  feel  npon  subjects  to  which  I  appear 
sometimes  inconsiderately  to  allude.  You  know  that  my  duties 
here  are  severe,  and  that  I  cannot  but  be  constantly  and  closely 
brought  in  contact  with  scenes  of  distress  and  affliction.  When  I 
sit  down,  after  the  fatigue  of  parochial  cares,  I  am  fain  to  seek 
relaxation  and  relief  by  diverting  my  attention  with  correspondence 
and  society ;  and  if,  in  conversing  with  my  absent  friends,  I  appear 
to  indulge  in  levity  and  trifling,  inconsistent  with  my  solemn  rela- 
tions and  responsibilities,  it  is  because  I  know  that  I  am  dealing 
with  those  in  whose  minds  no  misconstruction  can  arise.  I  write 
of  course,  therefore,  only  for  the  ears  of  the  family;  and  I  feel  that 
it  would  always  have  been  well,  if  my  letters  had  been  destroyed 
as  soon  as  they  had  been  perused." 

The  following  passage,  selected  from  a  letter  of  the  9th  of  Octo- 
ber, is  a  pleasing  specimen  of  his  easy  and  graceful  manner  of 
recording  the  daily  transactions  of  his  life  :  "  The  last  week  has 
been  busy  as  usual.  If  I  had  been  able  to  have  been  at  nine  places 
at  once,  I  suppose  I  should  have  been  wanted  in  them  all.  But  it 
is  good  for  a  man  to  bear  the  yoke  in  his  youth  ;  and  I  find  that 
every  duty  brings  its  own  peculiar  pleasure.  I  accompanied  Mr. 
Clark  *  to  Lexington  on  Friday,  to  the  desolate  house  of  his 
ancestors.  The  day  was  cold,  the  season  in  its  sere  and  yellow 
leaf,  and  every  thing  as  rueful  as  need  to  be.  The  old  gentleman 
could  not  but  have  considered  it  as  probably  his  final  visit,  though 
he  is  still  in  good  health  and  spirits.  I  saw  the  monument  to  the 
first  victims  of  '  British  tyranny  and  oppression,'  and  read  the 
inscription  (poor  as  it  is)  with  something  of  a  thrill  at  my  elbows." 
Early  in  the  month  of  October,  his  brother  Sherman  removed 
from  New  Haven,  and  became  jointly  concerned  with  his  cousin, 
Edwin  Croswell,  in  the  Albany  Argus.  From  two  letters,  ad- 
dressed to  him  at  Albany,  the  following  passages  are  selected  : 
"  October  10.  Father  writes  sadly  enough  about  '  this  severing  of 
the  members  of  our  family,'  and  of  its  tendency  '  to  weaken  the 
strong  attachment  for  the  spot  where  they  were  reared.'  We  must 
counteract  this  by  strengthening  and  multiplying  our  lines  of  com- 
munication, and  binding  ourselves  as  strong  as  may  be  in  the  bonds 
of  ink  and  paper."  "  December  4.  I  have  been  reading  with  great, 
though  melancholy  gratification,  the  Memoir  and  Remains  of  the 
late  Edmund  D.  Griffin.  You  will  find  a  short  expression  of  my 
views  and  feelings  in  the  last  Banner.  My  acquaintance  with  him 
was  but  slight ;   but  my  appreciation   of  his  character  was  always 


*  Thomas  Clauk,  Esq.,  senior  warden  of  Christ  Church.  A  melancholy 
interest  is  imparted  to  this  extract  from  the  circumstance  of  Mr.  Clakk's  death, 
which  took  place  on  the  29th  of  Tklay  of  the  foUoAving  year. 


108  MEMOIR   OF   WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1831. 

very  high.  I  saw  him  last  in  the  pulpit,  and  the  circumstance 
invests  his  image  in  my  memory  with  solemn  and  beautiful  associa- 
tions. The  coincidence  between  his  age  and  my  own  has  served 
to  deepen  the  impression  which  the  perusal,  under  any  circumstances, 
cannot  fail  to  produce,  and  gives  freshness  and  awe  to  the  warning, 
'  Let  your  loins  also  be  girt  about,  and  your  lamps  burning,  and  ye 
yourselves  as  men  that  wait  for  their  Lord.' " 

The  last  letter,  of  the  present  year,  from  which  any  extracts  can 
be  made,  is  addressed  to  his  father,  under  date  of  November  7  : 
"  This  is  my  birthday,  and  I  hope  its  beauty  and  brightness  are 
pledges  and  earnests  of  many  more  such  to  come.  Life  is  wearing 
away  at  a  round  rate,  and  I  ought  to  be  a  wiser  and  better  man 
than  I  am.  I  have  not  entered  upon  a  new  year  without  many 
solemn  resolutions  for  the  future  improvement  of  time,  some  of 
which,  by  the  blessing  of  God,  I  trust  I  shall  be  enabled  to  keep. 
I  need  not  ask  your  prayers  that  I  may  be  enabled  to  do  so,  for  I 
know  that  I  have  them  always." 

In  the  same  letter,  he  thus  expresses  his  strong  solicitude  and 
Christian  sympathy  for  a  beloved  cousin,  who  was,  at  the  time, 
withering  away  under  the  ravages  of  a  pulmonary  consumption  : 
"  I  am  sorry  for  poor  John.  Assure  him  of  my  love  and  sympathy, 
and  that  I  shall  not  fail  to  bear  him  on  my  mind  and  in  my  prayers. 
I  hope  he  will  not  long  remain  a  stranger  to  the  covenant  of  prom- 
ises in  the  gospel.  What  can  sustain  us  in  our  hour  of  distress  but 
its  consolations  ?  Our  afflictions  are  sanctified  to  us,  if  they  con- 
vince us  of  our  sins,  if  they  make  us  realize  our  wretchedness,  if 
they  melt  down  our  hearts,  if  they  wean  us  from  the  world,  and 
turn  our  anxious  thoughts  to  a  Savior.  Then  let  him  cast  himself 
upon  God's  mercy  through  Christ,  and  endeavor,  in  dependence 
upon  the  Spirit  of  grace,  to  live  a  life  of  faith  in  the  Son  of  God. 
Joy,  and  peace,  and  all  the  fruits  of  the  Spirit  will  follow ;  for  him 
that  Cometh  with  such  a  disposition  of  mind.  He  has  assured  us  He 
will  in  no  wise  cast  out." 

After  the  decease  of  this  young  man,  which  occurred  within  a 
short  period,  he  addressed  the  following  letter  of  condolence  to  his 
sister :  "  On  an  occasion  like  this,  it  is  my  vocation  to  be,  like 
Barnabas,  a  '  son  of  consolation,'  and  it  would  be  mockery  if  I  did 
not  follow  the  deepest  impulses  of  my  feelings.  The  intelligence 
of  cousin  John's  death,  under  any  circumstances,  could  not  but 
have  deeply  affected  me ;  and  prepared  as  I  thought  myself  at  any 
moment  to  hear  it,  I  found  that  it  was  still  so  unexpected,  that  it 
greatly  shocked  me.  I  cannot  but  reproach  myself  that  I  had  not 
expressed  the  strong  desire  and  anticipation  that  I  had  of  seeing 
him  once  more  on  this  side  of  the  grave.  If  I  could  have  had  an 
idea  that  his  departure  was  so  shortly  to  have  been  accomplished, 
it  would  certainly  have  hastened  my  return.     I  was  ever  sincerel" 


1832.]  CHRIST   CHURCH.  109 

attached  to  liim,  and  believe  that  our  regard  was  mutual,  and  would 
gladly  have  given  you  occasion  to  feel  and  say,  'Behold,  how  he 
loved  him  ! '  .  •  .  But  though  absent  in  body,  rest  assured, 
dear  cousin,  that  I  am  with  you  in  spirit.  I  bear  you  in  my  mind, 
and  in  my  daily  prayers  to  that  divine  Being  who  is  touched  with  a 
feeling  of  our  mortal  woe.  He  is  still  with  his  followers,  of  whom 
it  Avas  truly  said,  '  If  thou  hadst  been  here,  my  brother  had  not 
died.'  The  same  blessed  promise  of  comfort  with  which  he  once 
stayed  the  bier,  still  bids  the  mourners  '  weep  not ; '  and  though  the 
young  man  do  not  now  immediately  sit  up  and  speak,  yet  it  is  but 
a  little  while,  and  'your  brother  shall  rise  again.'  Rely  upon  this 
gracious  assurance,  and  implore  the  aid  of  his  blessed  Spirit,  to 
support,  to  soothe,  and  to  sanctify.  And  as  our  little  company  is 
one  by  one  broken  down,  let  us  who  survive  be  bound  more  and 
more  in  love  together.  May  we  endeavor  to  devote  our  future  lives 
more  entirely  to  the  service  of  our  Redeemer.  As  friend  after 
friend  departs,  may  our  affections  be  carried  forward  with  them 
beyond  the  world,  and  may  we  live  as  becomes  those  who  are  heirs 
of  the  same  immortality.  So  may  we  all  at  last  attain  to  the  bless- 
edness of  the  redeemed,  of  which  we  have  such  good  hope  that 
your  brother,  by  the  merits  of  Christ,  has  become  a  partaker ;  not 
one  of  us  all  being  lost  in  that  day  '  when  the  Lord  uiaketh  up  his 
jewels.'  .  .  .  Wherefore,  comfort  one  another,  and  especially 
your  widowed  mother,  with  these  words ;  and  let  us  commend  our- 
selves and  each  other  to  God,  and  to  the  good  word  of  his  grace, 
which  is  able  to  build  us  up,  and  to  give  us  an  inheritance  among 
all  them  that  are  sanctified." 


1832. 


The  selections  from  the  correspondence  of  this  year  will  be 
sparingly  made.  This  course  is  plainly  dictated  by  an  expression 
in  one  of  his  own  letters,  where  he  says,  "  It  would  be  my  wish  to 
have  all  my  correspondence  destroyed  as  soon  as  it  has  secured  its 
purpose."  He  doubtless  apprehended,  though  perhaps  witliout  any 
good  reason,  that  by  some  possibihty,  his  letters,  if  filed  away  and 
preserved,  might  eventually  fall  into  hands  where  their  free  and 
confiding  language  might  be  construed  to  his  disadvantage ;  and 
hence  he  adds,  with  a  very  natural  and  significant  pun,  "The  vipers 
will  have   enouoh  to   gnaw  upon,  without  gnawing  upon   any  such 

Many  of  his  letters  were  written   in   a   light   and   l)uoyaiit   spirit. 


110  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1832. 

often  full  of  sparkling  uit  and  spiiglitly  sallies,  and  sometimes  with 
a  keen  spice  of  satire,  but  all  mingled  with  the  kindest  feelings  and 
reflections.  There  were  times,  however,  in  the  course  of  the  year, 
when  his  letters,  as  well  as  his  diary,  betrayed  a  tendency  to  depres- 
sion of  sjjirits  and  unwonted  anxiety  of  mind.  This  was  doubtless 
to  be  imputed  to  his  excessive  bodily  and  mental  labors,  and  such 
vexatious  cares  and  afflictive  dispensations  as  very  naturally  affected 
his  health,  and  brought  on  occasional  turns  of  nervous  excitement 
and  consequent  debility.  Such  was  the  anxiety  of  his  friends  on  liis 
account,  that  they  earnestly  recommended  a  sea  voyage ;  and  it  was 
even  thought  advisable  to  procure  for  him,  if  possible,  a  cha])laincy 
in  the  navy.  And,  at  the  same  time,  he  had  frequent  applications, 
direct  and  indirect,  to  change  the  scene  of  his  pastoral  labors.  But 
it  will  be  seen  that  every  inducement  of  this  kind  was  resisted,  and 
that  he  still  remained  at  his  post,  allowing  himself  only  the  occa- 
sional relaxation  of  a  visit  to  his  parents  and  friends. 

Of  the  extent  of  his  parochial  labors  enough  has  already  been 
said.  But  in  addition  to  these  labors,  with  the  joint  care  of  the 
Banner,  his  share  of  the  Price  Lectures,  and  his  various  engage- 
ments with  missionary  and  other  societies,  he  was  called,  the  present 
year,  by  the  popular  voice,  to  the  irksome  and  responsible  otfice  of  a 
member  of  the  school  committee,  which,  from  the  thorough  manner 
in  which  the  business  of  teaching  in  Boston  is  conducted,  proved  to 
be  a  most  formidable  burden. 

But  all  these  labors  and  cares  were  not  sufficient  to  check  the 
current  of  his  poetical  musings.  In  his  journal  of  January  2,  he 
records  the  writing  of  the  following,  for  the  ensuing  number  of  the 
Banner  :  — 


THE   SYNAGOGUE. 

"  But  even  unto  this  day,  when  Moses  is  read,  the  vail  is  upon  their  heart. 
Nevertheless,  when  it  shall  turn  to  the  Lord,  the  vail  shall  be  taken  away." 

Saikt  Paul. 

I  saw  them  in  their  synagogue  as  in  their  ancient  day. 
And  never  from  my  memory  the  scene  will  fade  away ; 
For  dazzling  on  my  vision  still  the  latticed  galleries  shine 
With  Israel's  loveliest  daughters,  in  their  beauty  half  divine. 

It  is  the  holy  Sabbath  eve  ;  the  solitary  light 

Sheds,  mingled  with  the  hues  of  day,  a  lustre  nothing  bright ; 

On  swarthy  brow  and  piercing  glance  it  falls  with  sadden  Jig  tinge, 

And  dimly  gilds  the  Pharisee's  phylacteries  and  fringe. 

The  two-leaved  doors  slide  slow  apart  before  the  Eastern  screen, 
As  rise  the  Hebrew  harmonies,  witli  clianted  prayers  between; 


1832.]  CHRIST   CHUllCH. 

And  'mid  the  tissued  veils  disclosed,  of  many  a  gorgeous  dye, 
Enveloped  in  their  jewelled  scarfs,  the  sacred  records  lie. 

Robed  in  his  sacerdotal  vest,  a  silvery-headed  man, 
With  voice  of  solemn  cadence  o'er  the  backward  letters  ran ; 
And  often  yet  niethinks  I  see  the  glow  and  power  that  sate 
Upon  his  face,  as  fortli  he  spread  the  roll  immaculate. 

And  fervently,  that  hour,  I  prayed,  that  from  the  mighty  scroll 
Its  light,  in  burning  characters,  might  break  on  every  soul ; 
That  on  their  hardened  hearts  the  vail  might  be  no  longer  dark, 
But  be  forever  rent  in  twain,  like  that  before  the  ark. 

For  yet  the  tenfold  film  shall  fiill,  O  Judah!  from  thy  sight. 
And  every  eye  be  purged  to  read  thy  testimonies  right, 
When  thou,  with  all  Messiah's  signs  in  Christ  distinctly  seen, 
Shalt,  by  Jehovah's  nameless  name,  invoke  the  Nazarene. 


The  following  also  appears  in  the  same   number  of  the  Banner, 
and  has  been  copied  into  several  "  extract  books." 


FOR  A   CHILD'S   ALBUM. 

Dear  child  of  many  a  hope  and  prayer. 

Write  in  this  little  book 
No  thought  on  which  thou  wouldst  not  dare 

To  have  thy  Savior  look. 
On  every  line,  O,  may  he  pour 

Some  glimmering  of  that  ray 
Which  shineth  ever  more  and  more 

Unto  the  perfect  day. 

Thine  be  a  daily  growth  in  grace, 

Whatever  else  betide. 
In  favor  with  our  rescued  race. 

And  God  be  on  thy  side  ; 
In  holiness  and  purity 

An  upward  path  to  trace. 
Till,  with  thine  angel,  thou  shalt  see 

In  heaven  thy  Father's  face. 

The  following  tribute  to  the  memory  of  an  esteemed  classmate 
and  friend,  is  found  in  a  letter  of  the  11th  of  March,  on  the  first 
afflictive  intelligence  of  his  death  :    "Your  hist,  mv  dear  father,  is  a 


112  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1832. 

checkered  leaf,  with  much  of  good,  but,  like  the  world  of  which  it 
IS  an  emblem,  with  some  of  ill.  It  is  my  endeavor  to  keep  my 
feelings  open  to  all  aspects  of  Providence,  whether  cheerful  or  mel- 
ancholy, and  to  endeavor  to  derive  such  impressions  from  them  as 
may  be  turned  to  permanent  benefit.  This  is  the  use  which  our 
heavenly  Father  intended,  doubtless,  should  be  made  of  them,  as 
instruments  of  our  moral  discipline  for  another  state  of  existence. 
But  I  have  no  time  to  moralize ;  and  this  is  not  the  place,  even  if 
I  had.  Your  letter  gave  me  the  first  intelligence  of  Daniel 
Whiting.  I  should  be  ashamed  of  myself  if  it  had  not  made  an 
abiding  impression.  I  loved  him  dearly,  and  lament  his  death  with 
unaftected  sorrow.  It  has  not  been  long  out  of  my  mind  since  I 
heard  of  it ;  and  if  my  engagements  allow,  I  shall  not  resist  the 
impulse  to  arrange  some  thoughts  in  verse,  as  a  slight  memorial  of 
my  esteem.  The  sliock  to  his  parents  must  be  almost  insupporta- 
ble, for  Daniel  was  not  only  their  favorite,  but  the  favorite  of  all 
his  friends.     I  trust  we  shall  meet  hereafter." 

The  verses   here  suggested  were   written,  as  appears  from  the 
date,  while  on  a  subsequent  visit  to  New  Haven. 


IN  MEMORY   OF  D.  W. 

'Heul  Quanto  minus  est  cum  reliquis  versari  quam  tui  meminisse." 

Once  how  my  exiled  schoolboy  heart 

Would  with  impatience  yearn 
For  those  dear  vernal  holidays 

When  I  might  homeward  turn ! 
And  "  haven  where  I  would  be  "  then, 

How  fondly  would  I  say, 
Thou  wert  too  fair  to  look  upon, 

Save  on  such  holiday  !  * 

And  still  thy  bowers  are  beautiful. 

Thy  walks  are  fair  to  see. 
But  time  and  troublous  thought  have  worked 

A  dreary  change  in  me  ; 
And  year  by  year  thy  loveliness 

Has  on  my  sense  grown  dim, 
Till  thou  hast  scarce  a  charm  unbroke 

Since  thou  art  spoiled  of  him. 


*  "  "SVhen  I  sat  last  on  this  prunrose  bank,  and  looked  down  these  meadows, 
I  thought  of  them  as  Charles  the  Emperor  did  of  the  city  of  Florence,  —  that 
they  were  too  pleasant  to  be  looked  on,  but  only  on  hoKdays."     Walton. 


1832.]  CHRIST   CHURCH.  1J3 

A  grief  for  which  all  words  are  weak 

Has  pierced  me  to  the  quick, 
Nor  dare  I  trust  myself  to  speak 

The  thoughts  that  crowd  so  thick ; 
I  yield  me  to  the  consciousness 

Which  death  and  sorrow  bring, 
That  all  of  earth  we  dote  upon 

Hath  no  continuing. 
New  Havex,  Mai/,  1832. 

While  absent  from  Boston  on  this  visit,  he  suffered  a  severe 
bereavement  in  the  death  of  his  venerated  and  much-esteemed 
friend,  the  senior  warden  of  bis  church,  Thomas  Clark,  Esq.  Such 
a  loss,  under  any  circumstances,  would  have  been  to  him  a  sad 
trial  ;  for  Mr.  Clark  had  been  not  only  a  warm  personal  friend, 
but  a  faithful  church  officer,  and  a  most  discreet  and  judicious 
counsellor.  But  in  the'  present  case,  he  felt  the  dispensation  the 
more  keenly,  because  he  could  not  be  present  to  administer  the  last 
consolations  of  religion,  nor  to  officiate  at  the  funeral  solemnities. 
As  communications  could  be  made  from  place  to  place,  at  that  time, 
only  through  the  tardy  mails,  and  the  passages  by  stage  or  by 
water,  the  only  modes  of  conveyance,  were  long  and  somewhat 
hncertain,  it  was  found  impossible  for  him  to  return  in  time  for  the 
performance  of  these  offices.  This  was  a  source  of  much  grief, 
though  not  of  self-reproach  ;  for  the  obstacles  were  entirely  provi- 
dential, and  beyond  his  control.  On  the  receipt  of  the  melancholy 
tidings,  he  wrote  a  letter  of  explanation  and  condolence  to  the 
bereaved  family,  and  hastened  his  return  to  Boston,  being,  as  be 
expresses  himself  in  his  diary,  "very  much  affected  by  the  intelli- 
gence." On  the  Sunday  following  he  preached  a  funeral  sermon, 
from  the  text,  "  The  hoary  head  is  a  crown  of  glory,  if  it  be  found 
in  the  way  of  righteousness."  Prov.  xvi.  31.  "  The  church,"  he 
says,  "  was  full  to  overflowing,  and  the  appearance  of  the  black 
hangings  on  the  gallery  and  wardens'  seat  was  very  solemn  and 
imposing.  The  occasion  made  the  sermon  an  afiecting  one.  It 
was,  however,  a  trying  duty  to  me  ;  and  I  am  relieved  that  it  has 
been  discharged,  and  so  satisfactorily."  In  the  mean  time,  the 
following  well-deserved  tribute  appeared  in  the  Banner  of  the  2d 
of  June  :  — 

"With  unfeigned  sorrow  we  announce  the  death,  on  the  morning 
of  the  29th  ultimo,  of  Thomas  Clark,  Esq.,  for  many  years  the 
senior  warden  of  Christ  Church  in  this  city,  and  a  member  of  the 
standing  committee  of  Massachusetts.  The  Church  has  nowhere 
left  a  more  devoted  servant  than  is  thus  lost  to  her  on  earth.  We 
will  go  further  than  tiiis :  we  have  never  known  the  man  who,  with 
15 


114  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1832. 

the  same  opportunities,  has  done  the  church  such  valuahle  service ; 
and  the  simple  secret  was,  that,  hke  good  Hezekiah,  'in  every  work 
that  he  began  in  the  service  of  the  house  of  God,  and  in  the  law, 
and  in  the  commandments,  to  seek  his  God,  he  did  it  with  all  his  heart, 
and  prospered.'  It  is  not  our  purpose  to  write  an  obituary  notice 
of  Mr.  Clark.  That,  at  the  proper  time,  will  be  done  by  a  more 
fitting  hand.  We  could  not  suffer  our  paper,  however,  to  go  to 
press,  without  this  brief  commemoration  of  one  of  the  most  mem- 
orable of  the  servants  of  God  within  our  knowledge.  Of  few  can 
it  be  said,  as  of  him,  that  he  identified  his  own  interests  with  the 
Church,  —  nay,  that  he  i>ostponed  them  to  it.  The  faithful  and 
devoted  guardian  of  the  temporalities  of  Christ  Church  for  many 
years,  his  last  days  were  literally  spent  in  its  service.  Mr.  Clark 
was  seventy-three  years  of  age,  and  for  more  than  three  has  been 
evidently  sinking  under  the  weight  of  infirmity  and  age.  Yet 
emerging  from  an  indisposition  which  confined  him  during  nearly 
all  tlie  last  winter  to  his  chamber,  he  undertook  and  prosecuted, 
and,  under  God,  by  the  energy  which  he  inspired,  —  for  he  pos- 
sessed universal  respect  and  confidence,  —  virtually  accomplished  an 
enteiprise  which  men  much  younger  and  much  stronger  than  he 
counted  as  hopeless.  It  was  among  the  chief  satisfactions  of  his 
last  hours,  that  God  had  so  far  prospered  his  heart's  desire.  'They 
have  done  nobly,'  he  said  of  the  members  of  the  parish  — '  they' 
have  done  nobly,  and  God  ivill  bless  them.'  But  Mr.  Clark  was 
not  a  Churchman  outwardly  alone.  His  heart  was  in  the  Church, 
as  the  Church  was  in  his  heart.  Next  to  laboring  for  the  liouse  of 
God,  his  delight  was  to  stand  within  its  courts.  As  his  last  public 
act  was  in  its  service,  so  the  last  place  in  which  he  was,  except  his 
dying  chamber,  was  the  sanctuary  of  the  Lord  ;  and  his  last  desire 
was,  that  he  might  commemorate  the  dying  love  of  his  Savior 
'  according  to  the  rites,'  as  he  emphatically  added,  '  of  the  Prot- 
estant Episcopal  Church.'  On  Sunday  afternoon,  the  sacrament 
was  administered  to  him  in  the  presence  of  the  family  and  friends 
of  his  love,  and  never  was  its  administration  more  impressive. 
From  a  stupor  of  many  hours'  duration,  he  aroused  himself  so 
completely  as  to  unite  throughout,  with  full  and  fervent  voice,  in  the 
sublime  service  of  the  Church,  and,  after  receiving  the  last  pledge 
of  redeeming  mercy,  to  commend  his  soul  —  not  forgetting,  as  he 
never  ft)rgot  them,  pious  wishes  for  the  prosperity  of  the  Church 
and  the  happiness  of  his  friends — to  its  merciful  Creator,  in  simple 
and  sincere  reliance  on  the  merits  of  the  Savior.  During  the  even- 
ing, he  contiiuied  able  and  disposed  to  converse,  using  mostly  the 
language  of  the  Scriptures,  and  with  especial  fervor  the  Psalms  — 
dwelling  most  delightedly  upon  the  promises  to  the  Church  and  her 
anticipated  triumphs,  and  often  adding,  '  Praise  the  Lord,  O  my 
soul  ! '  and  with  characteristic  energy,  '  I  toill  praise  the  Lord  while 


1832.]  CHRIST   CHURCH.  115 

I  have  my  being ! '  From  this  he  sank  again  into  a  state  of  appar- 
ent insensibihty,  only  awaking  for  a  few  moments  before  his  death, 
at  half  past  one  on  Tuesday  morning,  to  express  his  perfect  resig- 
nation to  the  will  of  God,  not  only  in  regard  to  himself,  but — what 
he  had  once  said  constituted  '  the  bitterness  of  his  cup '  —  his  be- 
reaved fomily. 

"  Mr.  Clark  was  in  all  the  relations  of  life  an  excellent  and 
exemplary  man.  In  the  public  station  which  for  years  he  held,  he 
enjoyed  the  confidence  and  respect  of  all.  He  was  well  known  to 
exercise  a  benevolence  beyond  his  means ;  and  the  writer  of  this 
has  occasion  to  know,  —  though  Mr.  Clark  was  ignorant  that  he 
knew  it,  as  his  retired  and  quiet  spirit  would  have  had  all  men 
ignorant,  —  that  his  secret  charities  were  of  the  most  delicate, 
munificent,  and  unostentatious  character.  To  the  service  of  the 
parish  of  Christ  Church  he  not  only  devoted  his  time,  his  influence, 
and  his  exertions,  but  he  embarked  in  its  interests  a  great  portion 
of  his  little  property ;  and  it  may  be  said  without  presumption.  In 
more  senses  than  one,  that  the  zeal  of  God's  house  consumed  him. 
He  was  for  many  years  a  faithful  and  eflicient  delegate  to  the  Con- 
ventions both  of  the  commonwealth  and  of  the  diocese,  and  a  useful 
member  of  the  standitig  committee.  It  was  a  trait  in  his  character 
to  do  well  whatever  he  undertook.  In  every  thing,  he  aimed  to  be 
sincere,  open,  generous,  steadfast,  uniform.  He  was  always  on  the 
side  of  sound  sense,  sound  principle,  good  order,  and  good  morals. 
He  was  a  good  citizen.  He  was  a  devoted,  exemplary,  and  consistent 
Christian.  He  was  a  Churchman  through  and  through.  He  wished, 
during  his  sickness,  for  the  prayers  provided  for  him  by  his  mother, 
the  Church,  and  he  would  have  no  other.  Her  services,  as  they 
were  the  choice  and  glory  of  his  manhood,  so  they  were  the  refresh- 
ment of  his  old  age  and  the  solace  of  his  death.  He  is  gathered 
to  his  fathers,  as  a  shock  of  corn  fiilly  ripe.  May  we  die  the  death 
of  the  righteous,  and  our  last  end  be  like  his." 

In  explanation  of  the  allusion,  in  the  foregoing  extract,  to  an 
enterprise  on  which  Mr.  Clark  bestowed  the  last  energies  of  his 
life,  it  is  proper  to  say,  that  when  the  Rev.  Dr.  Eaton  resigned  the 
rectorship  of  Christ  Church,  the  parish,  in  grateful  consideration 
of  his  past  services,  settled  upon  him  a  liberal  annuity  for  the 
residue  of  his  life.  It  was  soon  discovered,  however,  that  the  rais- 
ing of  this  sum  annually  was  a  cause  of  great  embarrassment  to 
the  parish,  and  had  a  tendency  to  retard  its  growth,  besides  render- 
ing it  inconvenient  to  make  suitable  provision  for  the  new  incumbent. 
Hence,  an  arrangement  was  proposed,  and  accepted  by  Dr.  Eaton, 
by  which,  on  the  receipt  of  a  stipulated  sum  from  the  parish,  he 
was  to  surrender  all  claims  to  the  annuity.    In  making  this  arrange- 


116  MEMOm   OF  WILLIAM    CEOSWELL.  [1832. 

ment  Mr.  Clark  was  chiefly  instrumental.  He  lived  to  see  the 
enterprise  so  far  accomplished  ;  but  it  was  only  by  a  slow  and  labo- 
rious process  that  the  means  could  be  raised  for  carrying  out  the 
contract  on  the  part  of  the  parish.  It  was  a  cause  of  great  anxiety 
to  the  new  incumbent ;  but  he  applied  himself  with  all  his  energy 
and  influence  to  its  completion,  and  he  had  the  satisfaction  of  suc- 
ceeding, and  of  paying  over  the  stipulated  sum  to  his  venerated 
predecessor  on  the  day  before  the  ensuing  Christmas.  Speaking  of 
the  festivities,  he  says,  "  Our  congregation  felt  that  the  congratula- 
tions of  the  season  were  enhanced  by  a  settlement  with  Dr.  Eaton, 
which  was  accomplished  the  day  before." 

Among  the  records  of  this  year  there  are  many  spirited,  not  to 
say  indignant,  allusions  to  the  proceedings  of  the  diocesan  Conven- 
tion of  Massachusetts,  which  commenced  its  session  in  Boston  on 
the  SOth  of  June.  The  following  remark  precedes  a  full  and 
minute  account  of  the  transactions  of  this  Convention  in  the  Ban- 
ner :  "There  was  no  extraordinary  business  transacted  at  the 
Convention,  though  some  of  the  ordinary  business,  as  will  be  seen 
below,  was  done  in  an  extraordinary  manner,  and  led  to  extraordi- 
nary results."  It  is  not  desirable,  nor  is  it  necessary  or  expedient, 
to  awaken  the  painful  recollection  of  these  transactions,  or  to 
mingle  up  with  these  personal  memoirs  the  working  of  party 
machinery  on  that  memorable  occasion.  But  in  this  connection  it 
must  be  said,  in  justice  to  the  deceased,  that  with  every  disposition 
to  cultivate  a  spirit  of  forbearance  and  harmony  among  his  brethren, 
he  could  look  on  these  proceedings  only  with  disgust,  and  with 
utter  distrust  of  the  wisdom  and  integrity  of  party  counsels. 

To  turn  to  more  pleasant  themes :  The  following  greeting  to  his 
namesake  and  godson,  after  having  been  sent  home  in  manuscript, 
was  published  in  the  Banner  :  — 


TO  MY   NAMESAKE,  WILLIAM   CEOSWELL  DOANE, 

ON    HIS    BAPTISM. 

"Formose  Puer." 

Childe  William,  I  have  little  skill, 

But  much  of  heart  and  hope, 
To  clear  from  every  sign  of  ill 

Thy  happy  horoscope. 
The  occult  gift  is  hid  from  me. 

Nor  may  my  art  divine 
Thy  life's  unfolded  destiny 

From  this  sweet  palm  of  thine. 


1832.]  CHRIST   ClirilCII.  117 

Bnt  in  thy  mother's  tender  love, 

Thy  father's  anxious  care, 
And,  more,  the  answer  from  above 

To  our  baptismal  prayer  — 
In  these  a  hallowed  influence  dwells, 

A  charm  that's  heavenlier  far 
Than  migfht  of  planetary  spells 

Or  culminating  star. 

The  power  of  holiest  rites,  fair  boy, 

The  tears  that  oft  will  wet 
Thy  forehead  from  excess  of  joy  — 

These  be  thy  amulet ! 
On  these  auspicious  prospects  rest, 

These  figure?  out  thy  fate  ; 
How  can  they  fail  to  make  thee  blest  — 

Blest,  if  not  fortunate  ? 

A  childless  man,  well  may  I  deem 

Thy  name  my  highest  pride. 
Rich  in  thy  parents'  dear  esteem. 

Though  poor  in  all  beside  ; 
Well  may  my  heart  with  gladness  ache, 

Flower  of  a  noble  stem. 
If  one  -will  love  thee  for  my  sake. 

As  I  have  honored  them. 

Boston,  Tuesday  in  Whitsun  xoeek,  Jun^  12,  1832. 

lu  the  course  of  the  year,  several  changes  took  place  in  the 
pastoral  relations  of  the  Episcopal  churches  in  Boston.  The  Rev. 
G.  W.  DoANE,  rector  of  Trinity  Church,  was  elected  to  the  episco- 
pate of  New  Jersey ;  and  the  Rev.  .Iohn  H.  Hopkins,  assistant 
minister  of  the  same  church,  to  the  episcopate  of  Vermont.  The 
Rev.  Dr.  A.  Potter  resigned  the  rectorship  of  St.  Paul's,  and  the 
Rev.  .ToHN  L.  Stone  was  called  to  supply  the  vacancy.  But  none 
of  these  changes,  with  the  exceptioii  of  the  removal  of  his  friend 
DoAXE,  affected  the  incumbent  of  Christ  Church.  It  was  deemed 
the  imperative  duty  of  Mr.  Doane  to  accept  the  office  to  which  he 
was  elected  ;  but  the  separation  of  the  two  friends,  after  their  long 
and  confiding  intimacy,  was  exceedingly  trying  to  both.  The  junior 
foresaw  that  it  would  be  utterly  impracticable  to  take  the  whole 
labor  and  responsibility  of  the  editorship  of  the  Banner  upon  him- 
self; and  as  the  income,  at  the  low  price  of  the  paper,  was  inade- 
quate to  sustain  an  independent  editor,  measures  were  immediately 
taken  for  the  transfer  of  the  subscription  list  to  the  New  York 
Churchman,  and  for  closing  the   publication  of  the  Banner  in   Bos- 


118  MEMOm   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1832. 

ton.  Under  date  of  November  27,  he  writes:  "We  unfurl  the 
Banner  once  more  at  half  mast,  this  week,  as  a  signal  of  distress, 
and  of  our  intention  to  surrender  to  the  Churchman.  I  am  heartily 
glad  to  have  my  hands  clear  of  it,  at  any  expense  ;  and  our  breth- 
ren in  New  York  have  no  less  reason  to  be  glad  at  an  accession  to 
their  lists,  which  will  make  their  paper  a  source  of  revenue." 

Again,  on  the  3d  of  December:  "I  think  our  New  Haven 
subscribers  will  find  the  Churchman  a  desirable  exchange  for  the 
Banner,  in  its  larger  size,  variety  of  contents,  and  chiefly  from  its 
being  issued  from  '  head  quarters.'  It  was  a  thing  spoken  of  at 
New  York,  during  our  late  sojourn,  as  desirable,  that  I  should 
assume  the  management  of  that  paper.  But  God  forbid  !  Except 
as  a  correspondent,  I  purpose  never  to  have  any  further  connection 
with  the  periodical  press." 

The  following  is  found  in  his  manuscript  collections,  under  date 
of  New  York,  October  31,  1832,  the  day  on  which  his  friend  Doane 
was  consecrated  to  the  episcopate  of  New  Jersey.  This  sufficiently 
explains  its  meaning. 

AD  AlsnCIJM. 

Let  no  gainsaying  lips  despise  thy  youth ; 

Like  his,  the  great  Apostle's  favorite  son. 

Whose  early  rule  at  Epliesus  begun : 
Thy  Urim  and  thy  Thummim  —  Light  and  Truth  — 

Be  thy  protection  from  the  Holy  One : 
And  for  thy  fiery  trials,  be  there  shed 
A  sevenfold  grace  on  thine  anointed  head. 

Till  thy  "right  onward"  course  shall  all  be  run. 
And  when  thy  earthly  championship  is  through. 

Thy  warfare  fought,  thy  battle  won, 
And  heaven's  own  palms  of  triumph  bright  in  view, 

May  this  thy  thrilling  welcome  be :  "  Well  done  ! 
Because  thou  hast  been  faithful  over  few, 
A  mightier  rule  be  thine,  O  servant  good  and  true!" 


In  his  letter,  dated  on  the  last  day  of  the  year,  he  says,  "  To- 
morrow we  open  church  again,  in  commemoration  of  the  Circum- 
cision, and  intend  to  do  so  on  all  the  holy  days  throughout  the  year. 
This  has  become  the  more  desirable,  in  consequence  of  Trinity 
Church  being  closed  on  those  days,  since  Bishop  Doane  abdicated 
the  rectorship.  I  expect  that  we  shall  commence  with  great  spirit, 
and  I  have  endeavored  to  secure  a  better  attendance  than  I  have 
ever  vet  seen  in  the  great  central  churches." 

After  a  tew  touching  reflections   on   the   death  of  friends  during 


1833.]  CHRIST   CHURCH.  119 

the  year,  he  closes  this  letter  thus :  "  Alas  !  how  m.iny  are  the  dead 
of  1832,  and  some  of  them  how  dear  !  Who  are  to  be  the  dead 
of  183:3  1  None  of  us,  I  trust,  who  shall  be  found  otherwise  than 
as  those  who  wait  for  the  coming  of  their  Lord.     Amen." 


1833. 


Among  the  leading  incidents  of  this  year  may  be  recorded  the 
result  of  a  negotiation  which  is  alluded  to  in  one  of  the  letters  of 
the  last.  He  had  declined  an  informal  proposal  to  resign  the  rec- 
torship of  Christ  Church,  Boston,  for  the  purpose  of  assuming  the 
editorship  of  the  New  York  Churchman.  But  this  refusal  was  by 
no  means  satisfactory  to  his  New  York  friends ;  and  early  in  the 
present  year,  a  new  and  more  formal  effort  was  made  to  induce  him 
to  change  his  purpose,  and  to  consent  once  more  to  enter  upon  the 
cares  and  responsibilities  of  editorial  life.  In  a  letter  to  his  father, 
of  the  4th  of  March,  he  speaks  of  a  direct  overture  from  some  of 
the  leading  Episcopalians  of  New  York  to  accept,  with  a  liberal 
salary,  the  entire  management  of  the  Churchman  ;  and  his  friend 
DoANE  so  far  favored  the  plan,  that  he  offered,  if  it  should  be 
thouglit  desirable,  to  divide  the  responsibility,  and  act  jointly  with 
him  in  the  enterprise.  He  continues :  "  I  soon  convinced  him, 
however,  that  it  was  a  line  of  life  any  thing  but  desirable,  and  one 
which  all  my  past  experience  has  led  me  to  regard  with  loathing 
and  dread.  But  for  this  experience,  I  might  be  tempted  to  regard 
such  a  proposition  favorably ;  but  if  I  ever  embark  in  such  a  busi- 
ness again,  1  do  it  with  eyes  open  to  all  the  anxieties,  privations, 
and  weariness  of  the  flesh  which  is  sure  to  follow  the  oversight  of 
any  press.  .  .  .  Nothing  but  the  most  entire  convictions  of 
duty  could  ever  again  overcome  my  reluctance  to  encounter  this 
painful  drudgery  ;  and  as  no  such  convictions  of  duty  are  upon  my 
mind  in  this  case,  I  instructed  him  most  peremptorily  to  decline. 
A  still  and  quiet  parish  for  me  ;  and  the  less  I  have  to  do 
with  the  great  world,  so  much  the  better.  God  wilhng,  I  shall  let 
nothing  divert  me  again  from  this  original  purpose  of  my  heart  : 
though  not  my  will,  but  His  be  done  !  " 

But  notwitbstiuiding  this  peremptory  refusal,  his  friends  in  New 
York  seemed  unwilling  to  abandon  the  plan  ;  and  he  soon  received 
from  one  of  the  soundest,  and  most  judicious,  and  influential  cler- 
gymen of  the  city  an  urgent  appeal  to  every  motive  that  might  be 
deemed  most  likely  to  govern  his  decision,  to  review  the  case,  and 
endeavor  to  give  them  a  favorable  answer.      The   letter  was  written 


120  MEMOIIl   OF  WILLIAM   CllOSWELL.  [1833. 

in  the  most  kind,  persuasive,  and  flattering'  terms  ;  and  it  produced, 
as  he  acknowledges  to  his  father  in  the  subjoined  extract,  some 
doubt  and  misgiving  as  to  the  correctness  of  his  decision.  "  My 
dear  fatlier,  on  the  subject  of  tlie  proposal  contained  in  the  above, 
I  have  already  expressed  my  sentiments.  I  must  confess,  notwith- 
standing, that  I  am  somewhat  staggered  by  this  appeal.  I  am 
mistaken,  if  it  does  not  move  you  also.  I  hope  I  am  not  variable  ; 
but,  more  than  this,  I  hope  I  shall  always  change  when  change  is 
for  the  better.  Thougli  I  am  jiot  prepared  to  avo\v  any  alteration 
in  my  disposition  to  entertain  favorably  this  plan,  as  already  given 
to  you,  it  is  obvious  that  it  cannot  consistently  be  rejected  without 
miich  reflection  and  consideration.  With  regard  to  my  situation 
here,  I  never  felt  more  perplexity.  My  parochial  prospects  were 
never  more  unclouded  than  at  this  moment ;  but  my  apprehension 
is  that  they  will  not  long  be  suffered  to  continue  so.  All  I  can  say 
is,  that  mine  hour  is  not  yet  come.  ...  I  cannot  help  shrink- 
ing at  the  id*ea  of  linking  myself  once  more  to  the  weekly  press  ; 
and  yet  when  I  consider  what  a  paper  rnight  be  made  at  New  York, 

with  such  coadjutors  as and  ,  my  spirit  kindles  again 

within  me,  and  I  feel  willing  to  devote  myself  to  such  prospects  of 
usefulness  ;  and  then,  again,  I  pause  to  inquire  whether  I  am  not 
building  an  unsubstantial  pageant,  the  baseless  fabric  of  a  vision, 
such  as  can  never  exist  except  in  an  ardent  and  ill-regulated  imagi- 
nation. Whether  real  or  fanciful,  however,  these  thoughts  of  my 
head  trouble  me.  I  commit  the  case  to  God  in  prayer,  and  to  you 
in  this  wise.  To  no  other  human  being  here  can  I  open  my  mind, 
except  Bishop  Doane.  I  would  like  to  have  you  review  your  own 
opinions,  and  communicate  by  the  very  first  mail ;  and  till  I  liear, 
I  shall  feel  much  in  suspense.  Understand,  however,  that  I  can 
bring  myself  to  contemplate  the  acceptance  of  this  invitation  only 
on  condition  of  its  being  associated  with  some  easy  parochial  cure 
in  the  neighborhood  of  the  city.  At  my  time  of  life,  I  would  not 
willingly  withdraw  from  the  ranks  of  the  working  clergy  ;  and  with 
my  present  stock  of  sermons,  I  should  have  no  difliculty  on  that 
score.  In  short,  to  end  as  I  began,  I  know  not  what  to  do.  I  am 
not  sure  but  it  will  be  my  duty  to  go;  and  I  trust  inclination  will 
surrender  its  claims,  if  I  can  find  out  that  it  has  any  for  a  different 
course.  You  can  of  course  view  the  question  in  all  its  bearings 
more  dispassionately  than  I,  and  I  shall  be  governed  mainly  by  your 
opinion." 

To  this  dutiful  and  affecting  a])peal  his  father  had  but  one  answer 
to  give  ;  and  this  answer  was  founded  on  long  experience  and 
observation,  and  was  in  perfect  accordance  with  all  the  former 
opinions  which  he  liad  expressed  on  similar  subjects.  Whether 
right  or  not,  it  had  the  effect  to  fortify  the  son  as  to  the  correctness 
of  his  previous  decision  ;   and  thougli   a  ])arisli  was  offered  him,  in 


1833.]  CHRIST   CHURCH.  121 

addition  to  the  other  inducements,  lie  felt  it  to  be  Iiis  duty  to  decline 
the  proposal.  His  own  language  will  best  express  his  feelings.  In 
a  letter  of  April  3d  he  says,  "  I  confess  I  have  had  a  great  strife  of 

feeling  with  regard  to  's  application  ;  and  all  the  changes  of 

mood  and  various  fluctuations  of  my  irresolute  mind  have  been  laid 
by  turns  before  you  in  my  frequent  letters.  You  will  perceive  by  my 
last,  in  which  I  express  myself  without  reserve,  as  in  all  before,  that 
I  have  at  length  settled  down  into  the  same  convictions  which  you 
yourself  entertain  ;  and  if  I  had  been  doubtful,  I  need  not  assure 
you  that  yours,  received  this  morning,  would  have  satisfied  me  that 
it  was  not  my  duty  to  take  a  step  so  contrary  to  your  wishes.  On 
this  subject,  therefore,  you  may  set  your  mind  at  ease ;  and,  at  the 
same  time,  I  shall  relieve  my  own  from  all  its  past  perplexity,  by 
sending  in  the  next  mail  a  peremptory  refusal  to  the  gentlemen 
of  New  York.  I  never  did  any  thing  more  cheerfully  than  I  shall 
do  this;  and  I  shall  once  more  bend  myself,  with  fresh  interest,  to 
the  duties  of  a  parish,  of  whose  entire  and  unshaken  devotion  to 
me  I  was  never  so  ftdly  assured." 

•  But  this  subject  must  not  be  dismissed  without  adding,  in  justice 
to  his  own  memory  and  to  the  credit  of  his  warm-hearted  corre- 
spondent, a  few  extracts  from  his  rejjly  to  his  last  letter. 

New  York,  April  11,  1833. 
Rev.  and  dear  Brother:  Your  letter  of  the  4th  instant  was  received 
in  due  course,  and  was  last  evening  submitted  to  the  trustees  of  the  press, 
in  lieu  of  that  which  I  had  fondly  lioped  to  present  —  a  ratification  of  an 
arrangement  to  do  your  Master's  work  in  the  wide  field  to  which  we  would 
have  called  you.  That  you  have  been  calm,  single-hearted,  and  conscien- 
tious in  making  your  decision,  I  cannot  doubt ;  that  it  has  been  judicious,  I 
will  not  question  ;  that  it  has  been  grievous  in  an  extreme  to  those,  whom, 
had  you  known  as  I  do,  you  would,  I  think,  have  been  more  anxious  to  help 
in  their  work,  I  know  but  too  well.  In  one  way  only  can  you  make  amends 
for  the  pain  you  have  given  us.  Let  that  pen,  the  powers  of  which  appear 
so  plainly  even  when  it  is  attempting  to  prove  its  own  weakness,  be  statedly 
and  freely  employed  as  a  coadjutor  in  the  work,  to  which  you  have  refused 
to  consecrate  its  whole  energies.  Pray,  help  me  with  scraps  -—  if  they  be 
but  scraps  —  of  thoughts,  doctrinal,  practical,  devotional,  or  critical,  in  prose 
or  verse,  on  subjects  old  or  new,  foreign  or  domestic,  such  as  come  to  you 
most  naturally,  and  such  as  give  pleasure,  relief,  or  comfort  to  a  mind  tasked 
with  other  things.  Thus  you  can  do  something  to  alleviate  a  burden,  which, 
I  fear,  you  have  fixed  on  me,  even  till  it  may  crush  me,  and  thus  can  at  least 
show  more  kindness  than  he  deserves  to  your  faithful  and  true  friend  and 
brother. 

The  next  prominent  incident  to  be  recorded  is  a  most  perilous 
accident,  which  occurred  on  his  return  from  a  long  visit  to  his 
friends  in  New  York,  New  Jersey,  Albany,  Troy,  Catskill,  and  New 
Haven.  The  first  intimation  of  this  accident  received  by  his  family 
in  New  Haven  was  through  a  paragra[)h  in  a  Boston  newspaper, 
stating  the  simple  fact  that  the  Rev.  William  Croswell  had  been 
severely  injured  by  the  upsetting  of  a  stage  at  Walpole,  a  post  town 
16 


122  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROS\^rELL.  [1833. 

some  twenty  miles  from  Boston,  and  had  been  taken  up  in  a  state 
of  insensibility.  There  was  neither  telegraph  nor  railroad  at  that 
time,  nor  was  there  any, direct  mode  of  conveyance  except  by  the 
mail  stages.  His  friends,  therefore,  were  compelled  to  wait  in 
painful  suspense  for  the  arrival  of  the  eastern  mail.  But  the  mail, 
when  it  came,  brought  no  letter ;  and  this  circumstance  very  much 
increased  their  anxiety.  It  was  now  resolved,  therefore,  to  despatch 
his  brother  Sherman  by  the  first  stage,  to  ascertain  the  true  state 
of  the  case,  and  to  be  ready  to  render  any  assistance  that  might  be 
required.  He  took  his  seat,  and  had  been  gone  half  an  hour,  when 
his  father,  on  stejjping  into  the  post  office,  found  a  letter,  in  the 
handwriting  of  William,  which  had  been  miscarried  to  Newark, 
N.  .r.,  on  the  previous  day,  and  was  now  returned  by  the  southern 
mail!  Learning  from  this  letter  that  the  injury  was  not  as  serious 
as  had  been  apprehended,  it  was  thought  advisable  to  prevent  his 
brother's  proceeding  on  the  journey,  under  all  tlie  painful  suspense 
necessarily  arising  from  the  circumstances;  hence  a  messenger  was 
despatched  to  overtake  the  mail  stage,  to  relieve  him,  as  well  from 
the  fatigue  of  the  journey  as  from  the  anxiety  of  his  mind.  The 
letter  above  mentioned,  under  date  of  May  20,  after  giving  a  graphic 
and  pleasing  account  of  the  commencement  of  his  journey,  from 
New  York  to  Providence,  in  the  splendid  steamer  "  Boston,"  pro- 
ceeds thus  to  describe  the  accident  and  its  results :  "  For  the 
remainder  of  my  journey,  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  its  end  did  not 
correspond  with  its  beginning  ;  though,  by  the  mercy  of  God,  I  am 
the  monument  of  an  almost  miraculous  preservation.  We  arrived 
at  Providence  at  half  past  four  o'clock  on  Saturday  morning ;  and 
I  immediately  took  my  seat  in  the  mail  Pilot,  which  goes  consid- 
erably in  advance  of  the  other  coaches.  We  got  on  rapidly  and 
safely  to  tlie  half-way  house  at  Walpole ;  but  as  we  drove  headlong 
towards  the  door,  with  a  smart  flourish,  the  carriage  separated  from 
the  wheels,  and  precipitated  every  thing  to  the  ground  with  great 
violence  —  baggage,  passengers,  and  pieces  of  the  carriage,  all  in 
one  tumultuous  heap.  Marvellous  to  relate,  though  the  carriage 
was  broken  to  fragments,  by  the  divine  goodness  no  person  was 
seriously  injured  ;  but  your  son  and  servant,  who  was  on  the  box 
with  the  driver,  with  characteristic  misfortune,  made  the  nearest 
approaches  to  it.  I  was  somewhat  stunned  by  the  shock,  and,  when 
I  recovered,  found  myself  in  bed,  with  my  forehead  considerably 
scratched  and  defaced,  but  not  in  the  shghtest  degree  endangered. 
When  the  physician  arrived,  however,  he  insisted  on  bleeding  and 
giving  medicine ;  and  that  the  operation  might  have  its  full  advan- 
tage, I  consented  to  remain  another  day  at  Walpole,  and  had 
excellent  care  taken  of  me.  Rumors  of  my  shipwreck,  more  or 
less  exaggerated,  in  the  mean  time  reached  Boston  ;  and  my  friends 
were  soon  on  their  way  in  troops  to  see  me.     Early  yesterday  they 


1833.]  CHRIST  CHURCH.  123 

came  in  a  close  carriage,  and  got  me  into  town  very  comfortably 
before  nightfall.  Of  my  health  to-day  you  may  judge  something 
by  my  ability  to  write  this  letter,  but  more  from  my  solemn  and 
explicit  assurance  that  I  am  perfectly  sound,  mind  and  limb,  and, 
excepting  a  little  weakness  and  soreness  occasioned  by  the  jar  and 
straining  of  the  cords,  my  health  is  excellent.  What  most  was 
apprehended  was  some  aftection  of  the  head  and  brain  ;  but  of  this 
there  lias  not  been  the  slightest  symptom.  You  must  not  allow 
yourselves,  therefore,  to  have  your  apprehensions  excited  by  any 
thing  you  may  see  in  the  newspapers,  or  from  irresponsible  sources. 
The  rumor,  no  farther  off  than  Boston,  was  that  several  of  us  were 
killed  instantly.  More  than  half  of  my  parish  would  have  been  at 
Walpole  to-day,  had  I  remained.  I  need  not  tell  you  with  what 
kindness  I  have  been  overpowered,  the  moment  my  friends  heard 
of  the  circumstances." 

In  a  letter  a  week  later,  May  27,  after  speaking  of  the  gross 
carelessness  which  occasioned  the  delay  of  his  first  letter,  and  caused 
so  nnich  suspense  and  anxiety  among  his  New  Haven  friends,  he 
says,  "Had  I  known  that  you  were  all  in  the  dark  about  me  so  long, 
without  any  information  but  those  exaggerated  and  contradictory 
rumors  in  the  papers,  which  were  worse  than  ignorance,  I  am  sure 
it  would  have  had  more  of  a  tendency  to  retard  the  progress  of  my 
recovery  than  the  accident  itself  As  it  was,  I  had  gained  a  great 
start  before  your  letter  came  to  hand  ;  and  having  the  whole  of  the 
drama  before  me,  with  all  its  scenes  of  doubt  and  perplexity  clear- 
ing up  to  a  happy  and  satisfactory  development,  a  feeling  of  grati- 
tude predominates  over  all  the  rest,  and  I  cannot  find  it  in  my 
heart  to  make  a  clamor  and  outcry  about  it.  I  should  be  sorry 
indeed  to  have  had  Sherman  taken  his  wearisome  way  hither,  with 
such  painful  impressions  on  his  mind  ;  but  I  need  not  assure  him 
and  you  that  we  should  all  be  exceedingly  glad  to  have  seen  him." 

In  a  subsequent  letter,  Sunday,  June  2,  he  indulges  in  a  line  or 
two  of  pleasantry  on  the  subject  of  this  accident :  "  The  '  reverend 
clergyman,'  your  son,  who  has  figured  of  late  so  much  on  the 
'  stage,'  in  the  higher  walks  of  tragedy,  has  proved  to-day  that  his 
powers  are  still  undiminished  in  another  line,  by  preaching  thrice, 
and  baptizing,  besides  attending  Sunday  schools  and  Bible  classes, 
and  sundry  et  ceteras."  But  he  does  not  close,  without  returning 
to  that  serious  train  of  thought  which  pervades  all  his  writings. 
Speaking  of  his  mother's  proposed  journey,  he  says,  "  I  sincerely 
rejoice  that  no  part  of  it  need  be  in  the  perils  of  mail  coaches.  We 
are  equally  in  the  care,  however,  of  a  superintending  Providence, 
whether  in  motion  or  at  rest,  and,  with  all  earthly  appliances  of 
comfort  around,  can  never  say,  Now  am  I  secure.  It  is  right  that 
it  is  so,  that  we  may  feel  at  every  moment  our  entire  dependence 
on  our  almighty  Preserver.      My  first  sermon,  on   my  return  to  my 


124  MEMOIR   OF   WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1833. 

my  people,  was  on  this  subject,  from  Paul's  noble  avowal,  when  in 
clanger  of  shipwreck,  "  Whose  I  am,  and  whom  I  serve,"  showing 
how  we  are  God's  by  right  of  creation  and  redemption,  and  the 
duty  of  avowing  and  exhibiting  by  our  conduct  that  we  are  his,  in 
whatever  circumstances  we  may  be  placed. 

Again,  on  the  10th  of  .Tune,  he  writes,  "  I  am  still  well  to  do,  as 
you  may  easily  judge  by  token,  having  sustained  without  flinching 
three  entire  services  yesterday,  performed  the  baptismal  office  three 
times,  and  done  all  other  things  which  a  Christian  minister  can  do 
in  the  Sunday  school,  Bible  class,  &c.  Let  no  man's  heart  fail 
him,  therefore,  because  of  me.  God  has  been  truly  gracious,  and 
his  holy  name  be  praised." 

It  is  evident  from  these  extracts,  and  from  several  corresponding 
notes  in  his  diary,  that  he  felt  no  apprehension  from  the  effects  of 
the  accident.  But  it  is  to  be  observed  that,  from  this  time  forward, 
he  frequently  alluded  in  his  letters  to  some  irregularities  in  his  sys- 
tem, to  which  he  had  hitherto  been  a  stranger.  Headache  and 
chills,  languor  and  inertness,  coldness  and  irritability  of  the  stomach, 
and  an  excessive  degree  of  nervous  sensibility,  at  times  disturbed 
him.  Nor  is  it  improbable  that  a  most  singular  involuntarv  con- 
traction of  the  muscles  on  that  side  of  the  face  and  head  on  which 
he  fell,  by  which  he  was  sorely  afflicted  in  the  latter  years  of  his 
life,  may  be  imputed  to  this  cause;  and  there  is  but  too  much  reason 
to  apprehend  that  it  laid  the  foundation  for  the  malady,  which 
finally,  in  such  a  sudden  and  extraordinary  manner,  terminated 
his  life. 

In  collecting  the  poetical  productions  which  are  preserved  in 
tiiese  pages,  it  is  easy  to  perceive  the  peculiar  appropriateness  of 
one  of  the  terms  by  which  the  writer  himself  chose  to  characterize 
these  various  gems.  They  were  indeed  "  fugitive."  With  the 
exception  of  those  which  were  expressly  prepared  for  publica- 
tion, during  his  connection  with  the  periodical  press,  they  were 
often  thrown  off"  without  any  pains  to  mark  their  origin  or  the 
occasion  on  which  they  were  written.  Sometimes  they  were  con- 
veyed in  private  letters  to  his  friends,  sometimes  sent  anonymously 
to  the  public  newspapers,  and  sometimes  put  aside  among  his  mis- 
cellaneous papers,  without  date  or  signature.  But  some  few  of 
them  were  transcribed,  probably  by  his  own  sanction,  in  a  man- 
uscript collection  ;  and  by  the  help  of  these,  with  occasional  allu- 
sions in  his  diary  and  correspondence,  it  is  not  difficult  to  arrest  and 
identify  many  of  these  fugitives,  and  restore  them  to  their  rightful 
owner. 

Among  these  the  following  is  found.  It  was  addressed  to  a 
young  and  warm-hearted   friend.  Captain  Joseph  P.  Couthouy.* 

*  ;Mr.  Couthouy's  name  Avill  liequently  appear,  in  the  subsequent  pages  of 


1833.]  CHRIST   CHUIICII.  125 

when  on  the  point  of  embarking  for  tiie  Mediterranean,  in  a  mer- 
chant vessel,  named,  under  his  own  direction,  "  The  Heber." 


All  gentle  gales, 
Serene  and  smiling  skies,  thy  course  attend  ; 
The  "  winds  of  God  "  and  goodness  fill  thy  sails, 

My  faithful  friend. 

And  if  the  trust 
Be  not  in  vain,  that  Heaven  does  still  assign 
Our  guardians  from  the  spirits  of  the  just, 

Be  Heber's  thine  I 

And  when  'tis  o'er, 
The  stormy  passage  of  our  life,  may  we 
Meet  in  that  world  where  he  has  gone  before, 

Without  a  sea.  W.  C. 


The  following,  as  he  states  in  his  diary,  was  written  at  midnight 
of  the  Epiphany,  and  is  found  in  the  manuscript  collection.  It  has 
probably  never  appeared  in  print. 


MIDNIGHT  THOUGHT. 

'Tis  the  very  verge  of  the  midnight  deep, 

And  I  hark  for  the  passing  bell 
That  will  presently  come,  with  its  solemn  sweep, 

To  bid  the  last  hour  farewell ; 
A  lonely  vigil  it  is  to  keep. 

As  I  sadly  think  of  those 
Who  have  sunk  away  to  their  long,  last  sleep. 

And  tlieir  undisturbed  repose. 

But  O,  how  happy  to  thinly,  this  night. 

Of  the  eyes  that  are  shut,  like  flowers, 
To  open  again  more  fresh  and  bright, 

With  the  brighter  and  fresher  hours. 
The  hosts  of  God,  wlio  pitch  their  tents 

All  good  men  round  about, 
Protect  their  slumbering  innocence. 

And  "  make  their  dreams  devout." 

this  work,  as  the  friend  and  correspondent  of  the  rector  of  Clirist  Church,  and 
especially  at  a  later  period  of  his  life,  while  he  was  attached  to  the  scientific 
corps  of  the  South  Sea  exploring  expedition. 


126  MEMOIR  OF  WILLIAM   CROSAVELL.  [1833. 

Of  the  following  he  writes,  January  20,  "  You  have  perhaps 
discovered  that  some  stanzas  on  Bishop  White,  in  the  last  Church- 
man, sound  like  mine.  I  hope  you  will  not  think  them  unworthy 
of  me,  much  less  of  Mm" 


WHITE. 

"  Clarum  et  venerabile  nomen." 

It  was  a  consecrated  place, 

And  thought  still  lingers  there, 
Where  first  I  saw  thee  face  to  face, 

And  heard  thy  voice  in  prayer ; 
Though  thousands  thronged  each  long-drawn  aisle, 

•I  dwelt  upon  thy  mien. 
As  though  alone  it  filled  the  pile, 

So  saintly  and  serene. 

And  there,  arrayed  on  either  hand, 

A  goodly  sight  to  see, 
Rose  up  our  apostolic  band, 

A  glorious  company. 
And  still  I  deem  that  hour  most  blest 

When  round  the  shrine  they  stood. 
With  thee,  the  father  of  the  rest, 

A  holy  brotherhood. 

Age  had  forborne  thy  frame  to  bow ; 

Thine  eye,  without  eclipse. 
Seemed  ready,  like  thy  reverend  brow, 

For  heaven''s  apocalypse ; 
And  well  the  thought  that  o'er  thee  stole 

Might  be  of  triumph  high. 
Like  those  which  swelled  the  patriarch's  soul 

When  he  desired  to  die. 

For  lo !  the  vine  thy  hand  did  plant 

Extends  its  grateful  shade. 
Where  every  tired  inhabitant 

May  sit,  nor  be  afraid ; 
Its  fair  succession  spreads  apace, 

Till  scarce  the  land  has  room. 
Foretold,  like  Banquo's  kingly  race, 

To  stretch  till  "  crack  of  doom." 


O,  may  thy  light,  which  lingers  yet, 
Long  to  our  wishes  fond. 


1833.]  CHIIIST   CTIURCII.  127 

Give  promise,  by  its  glorious  set, 

Of  better  things  beyond  : 
A  happy  fate,  old  man,  be  thine, 

Deserving  of  thy  fame, 
And  robes  reserved  in  worlds  divine, 

As  pure  as  thine  own  name  ! 


Next  he  is  found  indulging  in  a  lighter  strain.  On  the  evening 
before  Valentine's  Day,  he  amused  himself  in  penning  a  valentine, 
one  copy  of  which  he  sent  to  his  cousin  Elizabeth,  with  the  fol- 
lowing playful  note :  "  Do  not  flatter  yourself  that  the  valentine 
had  any  personal  direction  to  yourself  or  any  body  else.  It  was 
merely  a  trial  of  my  amatory  skill,  to  which  I  was  challenged,  and 
to  show  what  sort  of  a  lover  I  could  make,  if  I  had  any  heau  ideal 
of  a  divinity  in  my  thoughts."  He  also  sent  a  copy  to  his  brother 
Sherman,  to  be  published  in  the  Albany  Argus,  accompanied  by 
this  caution,  in  tlie  same  strain  :   "You  need  not  fancy  any  personal 

direction  in  my  valentine,  the streak  in  question  being  only 

the  beau  ideal  of  a  bachelor's  aspirations." 


A  VALENTINE. 


I  stand  the  fated  hours  among ; 

And  ere  their  spell  depart, 
I  would  not  leafve  thee  all  unsung, 

Fair  lady  of  my  heart ! 
Though  wintry  airs  are  wondrous  sharp, 

Though  storms  obscure  the  moon, 
And  cold  has  snapped  thy  strings,  poor  harp ! 

My  heart  is  still  in  tune. 

Yes,  let  the  world  without  be  chill. 

Let  all  be  wild  and  wet. 
The  fire  within  glows  brightly  still. 

The  pulse  throbs  warmly  yet ; 
Nor  will  it  throb,  dear  maid,  in  vain. 

How  rude  soe'er  the  line, 
Thy  gentle  heart  will  not  disdain 

Thine  own  true  Valentine. 


On  an  unoccupied  page  of  a  letter  of  March  30,  he  transcribes 
the  following  touching  lines  ;  and,  in  a  subsequent  letter,  he  says, 


128  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1833. 

"As   they  are  yet  unappropriated,    you   Diay  put   them   into   any 
'  Mary's '  Bible  that  you  Uke." 


FOR  MARY'S  BIBLE. 

Who  sees,  where  in  the  sacred  leaves, 

The  name  of  some  dear  friend 
Its  tribute  at  God's  hand  receives, 

And  saintliest  lips  commend, 
And  prays  not  that  the  Book  may  bear 

For  her  that  witness  true. 
That  all  the  hallowed  name  who  share 

May  be  like-minded  too  ? 

Wouldst  have  thy  name  in  heaven's  own 

With  heaven's  own  colors  writ  ? 
Learn,  in  thy  green,  unsaddened  age. 

At  Jesus'  feet  to  sit ; 
By  faith  unfeigned,  and  holy  love, 

And  penitential  prayer, 
'Tis  graven  in  the  Book  above. 

And  kept  unfading  there. 


In  his  diary  of  June  25,  he  says,  "  Wrote  valedictory  stanzas  to 
my  sister."  These  stanzas  probably  never  appeared  in  print.  They 
are  copied  from  the  manuscript  collection,  where  they  appear  under 
the  above  date. 


TO   MY   SISTER. 

How  like,  alas  !  in  their  estate 

Are  home  and  heart !  the  one 
Is  left  unto  thee  desolate. 

Its  thousand  ties  undone ; 
The  other,  as  the  winds  go  by, 

Sore  charged  with  storm  and  rain. 
Hear  in  their  sound  the  dismal  cry, 

"  When  shall  we  meet  again ! " 

But  hush,  fond  lieart !  there  is  a  home 

Not  made  by  hand  of  clay, 
Where  change  and  chance  shall  never  come, 

In  heaven's  eternal  day. 


1833.]  CHRIST   CHURCH.  129 

For  that  loved  rest  thyself  prepare 

By  deeds  of  holy  strain, 
Till,  in  the  many  mansions  there, 

We  meet,  nor  part  again. 


The  following  lines  were  written  under  circumstances  particularly 
worthy  of  note.  It  was  on  the  morning  of  the  4th  of  July,  and 
amid  the  festivity  and  pageantry  of  the  day,  that  he  broke  away 
from  the  company  by  which  he  was  surrounded,  and,  according  to 
an  entry  in  his  diary,  "  went  home  and  wrote  a  piece  of  poetry." 
This  is  the  production  of  such  an  hour  ;  and  when  it  is  recollected 
that  his  friend  Doane  had  now  left  the  city,  and  removed  with  his 
family  to  his  episcopal  residence  in  New  Jersey,  the  significancy  of 
its  language  and  sentiment  will  be  well  understood  and  appreciated. 


TO   G.  W.  D. 

I  miss  thee  at  the  morning  tide, 

The  glorious  hour  of  prime  ; 
I  miss  thee  more,  when  day  has  die 

At  blessed  evening  time. 
As  slide  the  aching  hours  away, 

Still  art  thou  unforgot ; 
Sleeping  or  waking,  night  and  day, 

When  do  I  miss  thee  not  ? 


How  can  I  pass  that  gladsome  door, 

Where  every  favorite  room 
Thy  presence  made  so  bright  before 

Is  loneliness  and  gloom  ? 
Each  place  where  most  thou  lov'dst  to  be. 

Thy  home,  thy  house  of  prayer. 
Seem  yearning  for  thy  company : 

I  miss  thee  every  where. 


The  following  appears  to  have  been  written  at  about  the  same 
time,  when  he  speaks  in  his  diary  of  having  "  opened  a  new  vein 
of  poetry." 

17 


MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1833. 


TO   A   SUNDAY   SCHOOL  TEACHER. 

Much  do  we  miss  thee  from  thy  gentle  task 

Of  love  and  mercy,  on  the  Sabbath  day, 
As  gather  round  thy  little  ones  to  ask 

What  keeps  their  kindly  Teaclier  far  away. 
The  sweet  and  solemn  quiet  of  the  hours, 

The  sounds  as  solemn  and  as  sweet  as  they, 
In  sevenfold  cadence  flung  from  yon  old  towers. 

Where  thou  so  oft  hast  met  with  us  to  pray  — 
These  and  the  blessing  on  each  head  that  brings 

Young  souls  from  darkness  into  light  divine, 
Connect  thy  memory  with  all  heavenliest  things, 

And  make  a  day  of  glorious  prospect  shine, 
When  they  shall  rise  on  strong,  immortal  wings, 

And  like  a  starry  firmament  shall  shine. 


In  his  diary  of  .Tiily  13  he  speaks  of  his  having  written  a  sonnet; 
and  he  probably  refers  to  the  following,  which  is  found  in  the  man- 
uscript collection,  without  date.  It  is  transcribed  because  it  is,  as 
he  styles  it  himself,  an  "exculpatory  sonnet,"  and  seems  to  explain 
a  trait  in  his  deportment,  which  had  been  sometimes  imputed  to 
studied  rlistancr  and  reserve,  in  his  intercourse  with  society.  He 
here  raises  in  his  defence  the  example,  ajid  avails  himself  of  the 
language  and  sentiments,  of  an  old  English  poet,  who,  it  seems, 
some  three  hundred  years  before,  had  suffered  under  the  like 
imputation. 

SONNET.* 

Because  I  oft  in  dark,  abstracted  guise. 

Seem  most  alone  in  greatest  company. 

With  dearth  of  words,  or  answers  quite  awry 
To  them  that  would  make  speech  of  speech  arise. 
They  deem,  and  of  their  doom  the  rumor  flies, 

That  poison  foul  of  bubbling  pride  doth  lie 

So  in  my  swelling  breast,  that  only  I 
Fawn  on  myself,  and  others  do  despise. 

Yet  pride,  I  think,  doth  not  my  soul  possess, 
Which  looks  too  oft  in  his  unflattering  glass  ; 

*  «  For  the  first  ten  lines  of  this  exculpatory  sonnet  I  am  indebted  to  that 
paragon  of  euphuists,  worthy  of  all  titles  both  of  learning  and  chivalry,  Sir 
Philip  Sidney ;  for  the  remainder  he  is  not  responsible,  nor  for  any  violation 
of  the  fii'st  canon  of  Horace,  *  de  arte  poetica,'  wliich  may  be  involved  in  them." 


1833.1  CmilST   CHURCH.  131 

But  one  worse  weakness  I  must  needs  confess, 
That  deep  embarrassment  which  doth,  alas  ! 
Both  mental  powers  and  bodily  oppress  : 
Hence  rises  my  reserve,  and  not  from  willingness. 


The  following  bears  date  August  23  :  — 
DE  PROFUNDIS. 

"  There  may  be  a  cloud  without  a  rainbow,  but  there  cannot  be  a  rainbow  without  a  cloud." 

My  soul  were  dark 
But  for  the  golden  light  and  rainbow  hue, 
That,  sweeping  heaven  with  their  triumphal  arc, 

Break  on  the  view. 

Enough  to  feel 
That  God  indeed  is  good.     Enough  to  know. 
Without  the  gloomy  cloud,  he  could  reveal 

No  beauteous  bow. 


In  his  diary  of  September  5,  he  speaks  of  having  received  a 
paper  containing  the  "  Traveller's  Hymn,"  of  which  a  copy  is  found 
in  the  manuscript  collection. 


TRAVELLER'S  HYMN. 

"  In  joumeyings  often." 

Lord !  go  with  us,  and  we  go 

Safely  through  the  weariest  length, 
Travelling,  if  thou  will'st  it  so. 

In  the  greatness  of  thy  strength  ; 
Through  the  day,  and  through  the  dark, 

O'er  the  land,  and  o'er  the  sea. 
Speed  the  wheel,  and  steer  the  bark, 

Bring  us  where  we  fain  would  be. 

In  the  self-controlling  car, 

'Mid  the  engine's  iron  din, 
Waging  elemental  war. 

Flood  without,  and  flood  within. 


132  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1833. 

Through  tlie  day,  and  through  the  dark, 

O'er  the  laud,  and  o'er  the  sea, 
Speed  the  wheel,  and  steer  the  bark, 

Bring  us  where  we  fain  would  be. 


The  verses  which  follow  probably  never  appeared  in  print.  They 
were  found,  under  date  of  November,  1833,  in  his  own  handwriting, 
and  were  subsequently  transcribed,  in  a  letter  to  his  father,  with  the 
playful  inquiry,  "  By  what  art  do  you  think  I  have  recovered  the 
following  ? " 

FROM  THE  ANTIQUE. 

"  Fons  Crueis,  Fons  Lucis." 
BY   THE   NAME    OF    CROSSE-WELLE. 

Welle  of  the  Crosse  !  would  I  might  be 
In  spirit,  as  in  name,  like  thee, 
Whose  gentle  flow  from  Calvarie's  mount 

Covers  the  nations  like  a  sea ; 
Drowns  in  its  depths  the  Egerian  fount, 
And  older  wave  of  Castalie. 

Welle  of  the  Crosse  !  would  that  my  name 
Were  emblem  of  my  being's  aim. 
Upon  whose  face,  in  tranquil  rest. 

The  purest  hues  of  heaven  might  glow, 
And  through  its  deep,  transparent  breast, 
Fair  truth  be  seen  far  down  below. 

Welle  of  the  Crosse  !  would  that  I  might 
Thy  glorie  with  thy  name  unite : 
That,  cleansed  by  thee  from  every  stain. 

My  soul  might  gladly  count  but  loss 
All  worldly  thought,  all  worldly  gain, 
To  bear  the  burden  of  the  Cross. 

O,  yes,  for  thee,  Welle  of  the  Crosse  ! 

Fain  would  I  count  all  gain  but  loss  ; 

For  thee  fain  would  I  live  and  die. 

Nor  covet  ease,  nor  toil  decline. 

So  I  all  sin  might  crucify. 

So  I  but  conquer  in  that  sign  !  * 

*  "In  hoc  signo  vinces."     Constantine' s  Vision, 


1833.]  CHRIST    CHURCH.  133 

With  a  few  brief  extracts  from  his  correspondence,  the  record 
of  the  present  year  is  conchided.  In  a  letter,  dated  Sunday  even- 
ing, .lanuary  6,  he  says,  "  I  have  just  returned  from  a  solemn  oratorio 
at  the  Handel  and  Haydn  Society,  where  they  have  undertaken,  for 
the  second  time  this  season,  to  go  through  that  wonderful  perform- 
ance. The  Messiah.  Than  the  choruses  nothing  can  be  finer. 
The  effect  is  not  to  be  described  to  one  who  has  never  heard  it. 
1  can  only  say  that  some  strains  equal  all  my  conceptions  of  what 
is  worthy  of  the  solemn  and  sublime  sentiment  of  which  they  are 
the  vehicle.    They  still  thrill  in  my  ears ;  and  if  I  had  the  assurance 

of  good  Dr.  ,  of ,  I  might  catch  something  of  his 

rapture,  when  he  exclaimed,  '  That  is  such  music  as  /  shall  hear  in 
heaven.'  Certainly,  on  this  side  of  the  grave,  nothing  can  come 
much  nearer.  This  entertainment  is  only  to  be  had  on  Sunday 
evenings,  when  all  the  performers  have  no  engagements  elsewhere 
to  interfere.  Otherwise  I  should  prefer  some  other  opportunity, 
although  I  cannot  but  consider  the  services  of  the  day  as  very 
proper  preparation  in  order  to  receive  the  full  benefit  of  this  reli- 
gious and  sublime  composition.  I  have  come  away  with  new  ideas 
of  the  power  of  music,  and  with  new  conceptions,  I  trust,  of  the 
character  of  Him  who  has  been  the  subject  of  it." 

A  letter  of  November  4,  addressed  to  his  father,  is  written  in  a 
moralizing  strain,  and  contains  sentiments  highly  creditable  as  well 
to  his  heart  as  his  head  ;  but  as  the  allusions  are  generally  of  a 
private  nature,  only  here  and  there  a  passage  can  be  selected. 
"  Let  us  not  attempt  by  our  over-hastiness  to  forestall  the  divine 
wisdom.  Let  us  cheerfully  resign  every  thing  to  his  righteous  dis- 
posal, who  worketh  in  us  both  to  will  and  to  do.  He  that  believeth 
shall  not  make  haste.  If  we  pass  through  indignities  and  trials,  we 
know  who  hath  forewarned  us  that  these  things  must  needs  be.  It 
is  our  business  to  bear  up  under  and  profit  by  them ;  '  for  what 
glory  is  it,  if,  when  ye  be  bufteted  for  your  faults,  ye  shall  take  it 
patiently  ]  but  if,  when  ye  do  well,  and  suffer  for  it,  ye  take  it 
patiently,  this  is  acceptable  with  God.  For  even  hereunto  ye  were 
called,'  Sec.  ...  I  did  not  intend  to  moralize  over  so  much 
of  my  sheet ;  but  I  find  it  so  necessary  and  refreshing  to  take  this 
view  of  the  doctrine  of  the  cross,  in  what  cometh  upon  me  daily, 
that  I  find  it  the  favorite  remedy  when  called  to  administer  to  the 
troubles  of  others.  Has  our  religion,  indeed,  done  its  perfect  work 
upon  our  hearts,  if  we  have  ani/  will  of  our  own,  or  if  we  do  not 
cheerfully  acquiesce  in  the  will  of  God,  which  is  signified  in  all  the 
dispensations  of  his  providence  ?  Pureness,  long-suftering,  love  and 
faith  unfeigned  —  these  are  the  gold  which  is  to  be  purified  of  baser 
alloy  in  the  fiery  trial,  and  to  be  stamped  as  fitted  even  for  the 
Master's  use." 


134  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1834. 


1834. 


The  extract  with  which  the  record  of  this  year  is  commenced 
brings  to  the  mind  of  the  biographer  some  exceedingly  painful 
reminiscences.  How  delightful  the  anticipation !  how  distressing 
the  result !  It  is  dated  on  the  day  when  the  Rev.  William  L. 
Keese  commenced  his  regular  services  as  associate  rector  of  the 
parish  of  Trinity  Church,  New  Haven,  to  which  office  he  had  been 
unanimously  called.  He  had  preached  with  entire  acceptance  in 
the  two  churches  which  were  then  embraced  in  the  cure  ;  and  though 
the  day  was  extremely  stormy  and  unpleasant,  his  ministry  began 
with  the  most  flattering  prospects  ;  and  during  the  short  period  in 
which  he  was  permitted  to  continue  his  services,  he  secured  the  love 
and  esteem  not  only  of  the  senior  rector,  but  of  the  whole  parish. 
But  the  day  of  disappointment  was  near  at  hand.  Before  the  year 
had  half  expired,  he  began  to  sink  under  a  disease  which  prostrated 
his  strength,  unfitted  him  for  duty,  and  finally  brought  him  to  an 
early  grave. 

"  Boston,  Sunday  Ereninfj,  Jamiary  12,  1834. 

"  My  dear  Father  :  This  has  been  rather  an  inauspicious  day 
for  the  commencement  of  brother  Reese's  labors  at  New  Haven  ; 
but  in  our  present  state  of  being,  we  must  be  content  to  take  the 
evil  with  the  good ;  and  it  is  well,  perhaps,  that  we  should  not  have 
too  much  to  exhilarate  us  at  first.  If  physical  'cold'  was  among 
the  trials  of  the  apostle,  the  weather  reminds  us  that  we,  who  are 
not  apostles,  must  not  expect  to  do  better.  Make  my  best  and  most 
brotherly  salutations  to  your  new  coadjutor,  and  assure  him  of  my 
prayers  for  an  abundant  blessing  upon  the  relation  which  he  this 
day  assumes.  I  need  not  tell  you  that  I  have  had  you  both  in  my 
thoughts ;  and,  next  to  those  of  heaven,  they  keep  my  spirit  warm 
within  me,  tliis  severe  weather." 

It  is  pleasant  to  record  the  next  extract  from  his  correspondence, 
January  19,  as  illustrative  of  the  character  and  disposition  of  the 
writer,  though  constrained  to  say,  that  the  good  offices  thus  tendered 
and  accepted  were  not  destined  to  produce  any  very  lasting  effisct.  "  I 
have  been  doing,  this  last  week,  what,  a  year  ago,  I  thought  I  never 
could  have  done  ;  but  it  is  because,  I  hope,  I  have  twelve  months' 
more  teaching  in  the  school  of  Christ.  The  estrangement  between 
the  rector  of  Church  and  myself  has,  of  late,  been  becom- 
ing daily  a  subject  of  remark  and  inquiry,  and  made  detrimental  to 
the  welfare  of  the  Church.  I  determined  that  the  fault  should  not 
be  mine,  if  we  were  not  on  such  terms  of  ministerial  courtesy  as 


1834.]  CHRIST   CHURCH.  135 

to  take  from  the  adversary  any  argument  to  our  disadvantage. 
Without  consulting  with  flesh  and  blood,  therefore,  I  wrote  to  him 
very  kindly,  requesting  him  to  officiate  at  our  church  next  Sunday 
evening ;  and  he  has  answered  as  kindly  in  acceptance  of  the 
invitation." 

But  while  thus  endeavoring  to  cultivate  a  kindly  spirit  with  his 
clerical  brother,  he  could  by  no  means  close  his  eyes  against  the 
folly  and  absurdity,  to  apply  no  harsher  terms,  of  the  erratic  course 
pursued  by  that  brother  in  the  ministrations  of  his  parish.  Take, 
for  example,  the  following,  under  date  of  February  10  :  "You  have 
seen  the  notice,  which  I  marked  in  the  Transcript,  of  a  'series  of 

lectures  on  the  evidences  of  Christianity,  to  be  delivered  in 

Church,  by  four  clergymen  of  as  many  different  denominations.' 
Shades  of  our  fathers !  it  was  too  true  a  bill.  There  was  no  mis- 
take. The  series  was  commenced  last  night,  the  rector  himself 
reading  prayers,  and  Winslow  (Dr.  Beecher's  own  successor  in 
situation  and  sentiment)  delivered  the  Introductory.  It  is  too  late 
to  say,  Tell  it  not  in  Gath ;  for  it  was  published  beforehand  in 
all  the  streets  of  Askalon,  and  the  sons  and  daughters  of  Philistia 
have  rejoiced  in  our  shame.  We  are  entirely  dumbfounded  and 
taken  by  surprise,  and  open  not  our  lips.  It  must,  however,  react. 
It  is  as  impolitic  as  it  is  unnecessary,  dishonest,  and  unkind  to  his 
brethren  of  the  same  name,  who  are  thus  indirectly  reproached  for 
sectarianism,  exclusiveness,  and  bigotry,  and  what  not.  One  effect 
must  be,  to  hasten  the  removal  of  all  who  love  the  Church  from 
that  .  .  .  ;  and  another,  to  place  the  rector  in  a  very  disad- 
vantageous contrast  with  his  associates,  who  are,  Winslow,  (Ortho- 
dox, so  called,)  Stow,  (Baptist,)  and  Walker,  (Unitarian  !)  the  last 
by  far  the  ablest  man,  and  one  of  the  most  thorough-paced  support- 
ers of  the  sect.  I  repeat,  therefore,  tlmt  there  must  needs  be  a 
recoil,  and  such  a  one  as  he  is  by  no  means  in  a  state  to  sustain." 

In  a  letter,  dated  some  months  later,  this  significant  paragraph 
occurs  with  regard  to  the  singular  policy  of  the  same  clergyman  : 
"  Still  another  sign  !  as  the  newspapers  say.  On  my  way  to  Cam- 
bridge, the  other  day,  I  picked  up  a  number  of  the  Boston  Daily 
Antimasonic  Advocate,  a  week  or  two  old.  It  contained  a  curious 
account  of  the  temperance  anniversary  held  the  previous  evening  at 

Church.     The  editor  observed  that  Mr.  Stow  was  not  so 

interesting  as  usual  in  the  pulpit,  (now  ]Mr.  Stow  is  a  Baptist  min- 
ister,) and  that  Mr.  Mattheson,  (the  Presbyterian  delegate  from 
England,)  though  very  fervent,  was  rather  too  lengthy  in  his  prayer. 
You  may  see  by  this  to  what  pass  things  have  gone,  and  may  judge 
whether  the  force  of  latitudinarianism  can  be  carried  any  further." 

But  to  turn,  for  a  moment,  to  a  more  agreeable  topic.  The  fol- 
lowing is  found  in  manuscript,  under  date  of  February  6.  It  has 
probably  never  been  published. 


136  MEMOm  OF  WILLIAM   CKOS^VELL.  [1834. 


TO  A  FRIEND 

WHO   SENT  ME   A   WATCH   CASE  AND   THERMOMETER. 

How  much,  O  Time !  at  every  beat 

My  faithful  watch  has  said 
Of  thine  unseen  yet  quick  retreat, 

Thy  never-ceasing  tread ! 
And  friends  have  given  me,  day  by  day, 

A  clearer  power  to  see 
How  fast  thy  circles  wear  away 

Into  Eternity. 

But  howsoever  times  may  range, 

Let  not  this  token  be 
A  type  of  like  mercurial  change 

Between  my  friends  and  me. 
Howe'er  the  quickened  silver  mount. 

Or  shrink  into  the  ball, 
Be  our  dilated  hearts  unwont 

To  either  rise  or  fall. 


In  his  letter  of  3Iarch  3,  he  mentions  his  delivery  of  the  Price 
Lecture  on  "  the  Holy  Catholic  Church  ;  "  and  he  adds,  "  For  which, 
on  descending  from  the  pulpit,  I  received,  according  to  the  will  of 
the  late  Mr.  Price,  two  sovereigns,  besides  sundry  compliments  not 
provided  for  by  the  testator.  I  am  so  little  used  to  handling  gold, 
that  I  was  obliged  to  inquire  its  value,  (not  so  with  the  congratula- 
tory phrases.)"  He  also  speaks  in  this  letter  of  his  having  written 
some  poetry,  a  copy  of  which  is  subjoined.  "  My  famous  godson, 
William  Croswell  Doane,  entered  upon  his  third  year  yesterday ; 
and  as  poet  laureate  to  the  heir  apparent,  I  sent  him  his  usual  birth- 
day ode.  The  '  little  brilliant,'  I  dare  say,  had  rather  have  a  sugar 
plum,  by  half,  than  all  the  verses  in  the  world."  But  be  tliis  as  it 
may,  the  bishop  himself,  he  adds,  "  has  been  so  much  pleased  with 
them,  that  he  has  enclosed  me  a  lock  of  the  little  fellow's  bright 
golden  hair,  which  is  the  best  piece  of  '  unwritten  poetry '  that  1 
have  had  in  a  long  time.  What  so  beautiful  as  the  sunny  and 
delicate  ringlets  of  a  child  1  " 


1834.]  CHRIST  CHURCH.  137 

TO   MY   GODSON,* 

WILLIAM    CROSWELL    DO.VNE  :    MARCH    2,   1834. 

It  seems,  dear  boy,  but  yesterday, 

Since  to  the  font  we  came, 
A  happy  and  delighted  throng' 

To  answer  in  tliy  name : 
And  I,  thy  father's  chosen  friend, 

Joyed  o'er  thy  father's  son. 
To  hear  the  priestly  blessing  blend 

Our  allied  names  in  one. 

But  ah,  how  cloud  has  followed  cloud ! 

How  many  a  thrilling  scene 
Of  trial  and  of  triumph  crowd 

The  narrow  space  between ! 


*  These  lines  were  presented  to  tlie  young  child  on  a  subsequent  birthday, 
and  being  carefully  preserved  until  he  came  to  years  of  manhood,  called  forth 
this  grateful  response,  which  was  addressed  to  his  godfather  a  few  months 
before  his  death  :  — 

W.  C.  D.   TO   W.  C. 

Full  nineteen  years  of  yesterdays 

Have  sought  the  silent  grave, 
Since,  from  the  font,  baptismal  drops 

My  infant  brows  did  lave  : 
The  drops  that  gave  my  father's  name  . 

With  thine,  for  me  to  bear. 
And  made  me,  with  the  Cross's  sign, 

Christ's  soldier,  heaven's  heir. 

And  many  a  time,  his  hand  and  thine. 

With  priestly  power  endowed. 
Have  given  me  grace,  in  part  to  do 

"\Miat  then,  for  me,  j'ou  vowed  ; 
And  many  a  time,  both  thou  and  he. 

In  bearing  Jesus'  cross. 
Have  taught  me  what  the  world  counts  gain, 

For  Christ,  to  be  but  loss. 

And  though,  by  Apostohc  hands, 

Those  vows  on  me  are  laid, 
Which  by  the  consecrated  font 

Thy  hps,  for  me,  once  said. 
For  silent  prayers  oft  breathed  for  me, 

And  loving  acts  oft  done. 
Thou  hast  till  death,  my  father's  friend, 

Love  from  my  father's  son. 

RrvEESiDE,  July  31,  1851. 
18 


138  MEMOIE,   OF  WILLIAM    CROSWELL.  [1834. 

And  we  are  sundered  far  and  wide, 

Who  framed  in  happier  hour 
The  ties  which  time  shall  not  divide, 

Nor  death  shall  overpower. 

Let  not  thine  eye  to  me  be  strange, 

Whose  smile  has  been  so  sweet. 
And  I  can  bear  what  other  change 

Awaits  us  ere  we  meet. 
And  sure  the  love  which  thus  began 

Must  bind  us  to  the  end, 
And  never  can  thy  father's  son 

Forget  thy  father's  friend. 


But  from  these  delightful,  and,  as  the  event  has  proved,  prophetic 
strains,  our  attention  is  again  called  back  to  plaintive  and  melan- 
choly tones.  He  had  been  already  apprised  of  the  dangerous  illness 
of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Montgomery,  of  St.  Stephen's  Church,  Philadel- 
phia ;  and  in  his  letter  to  his  father,  March  10,  he  says,  "  I  believe 
I  told  you  that  our  most  estimable  brother.  Dr.  Montgomery,  is 
drawing  near  to  his  end  with  consumption.  Death  has  indeed  few 
fitter  victims,  none  more  worthy  to  enter  upon  the  reward  of  the 
faithful ;  but,  humanly  speaking,  how  premature  it  is  !  "  And  after 
citing  a  paragraph  from  a  letter  of  Bishop  Doane,  he  adds,  "  The 
ravages  of  mortality  among  the  clergy  of  our  generation  has  indeed 
been  fearful,  but  it  is,  I  trust,  because  God  is  making  up  his  jewels ; 
let  your  loins  be  therefore  girded,  and  your  lamps  burning,  and  ye 
yourselves  as  men  who  wait  for  the  Master's  coining."  Dr.  Mont- 
gomery died  on  the  IGth  of  March ;  and  Bishop  Doane  imme- 
diately communicated  the  sad  intelligence  to  his  friend,  with  a  full 
and  most  aftecting  account  of  his  last  hours,  and  the  triumphant 
manner  of  bis  departure,  concluding  with  this  just  and  beautiful 
testimony  :  "  Never  was  the  bed  of  death  a  preacher  of  righteous- 
ness more  eloquent.  Never  were  the  peace  and  joy  of  the  believer 
more  signally  manifested  than  in  him  who  now  sleeps  in  Jesus." 
And  to  this  testimony  is  added,  in  a  letter  to  his  father,  "  Such  an 
example  should  not  be  confined  to  a  corner,  but  is  the  property  of 
the  whole  church  of  God.  '  Precious  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord  is 
the  death  of  his  saints;'  much  more  should  they  be  precious  in 
ours."  That  such  an  event  should  draw  forth  one  of  the  happiest 
effusions  of  his  pen  is  not  strange  ;  and  it  appears,  by  a  subsequent 
letter,  that  the  following  lines  were  sent  to  Bishop  Doane,  on  the 
receipt  of  his  last  letter.  "  They  seemed,"  he  says,  "  to  arrange 
themselves  almost  spontaneously,  and  have  received  little  or  no 
correction." 


CHRIS'J'  CHURCH.  130 

My  brother,  I  have  read 
Of  holy  men,  in  Christ  who  fell  asleep, 
For  whom  no  bitter  tears  of  woe  were  shed  — 

I  could  not  weep ! 

And  thou  thyself  art  one, 
O  man  of  loves,  and  truth  without  alloy ! 
The  Master  calleth,  and  thy  work  well  done, 

Enter  thy  joy ! 

To  such  as  thee  belong 
The  harmonies  in  which  all  heaven  unite, 
To  share  the  "  inexpressive  nuptial  song," 

And  walk  in  white  ! 

But  O,  thy  Church !  thy  home  ! 
Thy  widowed  home !  —  who  shall  forbid  to  grieve  ? 
How  may  they  bear  the  desolating  gloom 

Such  partings  leave  ? 

Great  Shepherd  of  the  flock ! 
E'en  Thou,  whose  life  was  given  for  the  sheep, 
Sustain  them  in  the  overwhelming  shock. 

And  safely  keep ! 


A  few  months  later,  but  before  the  memory  of  this  painful  event 
had  been  in  the  slightest  degree  effaced,  while  the  strains  of  his 
plaintive  lute  were  still  sounding  in  the  ears  and  touching  the  hearts 
of  thousands,  his  sympathies  were  again  awakened  by  the  death  of 
another  of  his  clerical  brethren.  On  this,  as  on  every  other  subject, 
it  is  expedient,  as  far  as  practicable,  to  copy  his  own  words,  because 
no  other  language  could  so  thoroughly  illustrate  the  devout  spirit 
which  constituted  the  brightest  trait  in  his  character.  Under  date 
of  October  20,  he  says,  "  Of  the  many  instances  of  mortality  among 
the  clergy,  which  come  to  us  with  a  solemn  warning  to  be  also 
ready,  there  is  one  which  circumstances  have  brought  near  to  me 
in  a  most  affecting  matmer.  I  allude  to  our  brother  Blanchard, 
late  of  Annapolis,  and  last  of  Baltimore.  He  died  after  a  short 
confinement,  and  has  entered,  I  am  sure,  upon  the  rest  that  remains 
for  the  people  of  God.  He  was  here  on  his  annual  visit  to  his 
friends  in  August,  and  preached  for  me.  He  was  in  fine  health  and 
the  prime  of  life,  and  few,  apparently,  had  a  surer  tenure  on  exist- 
ence. He  spent  several  hours  with  me,  and  I  was  delighted  with 
his  conversation  and  society ;  so  mild  was  he,  so  gentle,  and  so 
courteous,  and  yet  so  firm  and  decided.     He  was  indeed  a  perfect 


140  MEMOIR    OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1834. 

pattern  of  Christian  '  conciliation  without  compromise  ; '  and  it  was 
impossible  to  know  him  and  not  to  love  him.  I  was  much  shocked 
to  hear  of  his  death  on  Monday,  with  a  message  from  his  sister 
(who  resides  here,  and  by  whom  he  was  almost  idolized)  to  come  and 
comfort  her.  I  did  what  I  could  ;  but,  alas !  how  poor  and  una- 
vailing were  mere  human  sympathy,  if  we  could  not  'rejoice  for  the 
consolation  '  of  the  divine  teacher.  This  consolation  the  friends  of 
the  deceased  must  be  favored  with  in  the  most  eminent  degree,  for 
he  was  a  good  man,  and  the  Holy  Ghost  was  upon  him.  His  life 
was  upright,  and  his  end  was  peace.  Let  me  die  the  death  of  the 
righteous,  and  let  my  last  end  be  hke  his." 

A  page  or  two  must  now  be  devoted  to  personal  matters,  for  the 
purpose  of  showing  with  what  steadiness  and  uniformity  he  resisted, 
up  to  that  time,  every  inducement  to  draw  him  away  from  the  post 
of  duty  which  he  then  occupied.  By  the  death  of  Dr.  Montgomery, 
the  rectorship  of  St.  Stephen's  Church,  Philadelphia,  had  become 
vacant;  and  he  was  soon  informed,  by  his  friend  Bishop  Doane, 
that  his  name,  without  his  knowledge  or  consent,  had  been  enrolled 
among  a  number  of  candidates  for  the  place,  and  that  there  was 
evidently  a  preponderating  influence  in  his  favor  among  the  leading 
members  of  the  parish.  It  was  but  natural  that  his  friend,  with  his 
characteristic  kindness  and  affection,  should  urge  him  to  look  favor- 
ably upon  a  suggestion  so  apparently  advantageous ;  and  he  was 
advised  at  least  to  accept  an  invitation  to  visit  the  parish,  and 
officiate  for  a  Sunday  or  two  in  the  church.  Flattered  as  he  may 
have  been  by  this  proposal,  he  was  nevertheless  exceedingly  morti- 
fied that  his  name  had  been  thus  brought  into  view ;  and  he  was  so 
impatient  to  express  to  his  friend  his  utter  aversion  to  any  such 
measure,  that,  without  even  consulting  his  father,  which  he  seldom 
omitted  to  do  on  any  important  question,  he  promptly  replied ;  and 
the  substance  of  his  reply  is  thus  given  :  "  I  instantly  issued  my 
'  solemn  protest,'  and  entreated  my  excellent  friend  Doane,  by  the 
love  he  b(u-e  me,  to  have  my  name  withdrawn  vvitliout  loss  of  time; 
that  I  felt  injured  in  my  own  estimation  by  the  use  that  had  been 
made  of  it ;  that  I  was  content  to  abide  as  I  was,  and  to  die  even 
here  within  these  walls;  and  that  if  I  ever  felt  that  I  was  thwarting 
my  destiny  by  a  city  life,  it  was  when  I  dreamed  of  some  (piiet 
little  nook,  fast  by  a  river  side,  where  my  days  might  pass  away  as 
smoothly  as  the  gentle  stream  ;  that  I  had  never,  and  would  never, 
because  conscientiously  I  could  not,  voluntarily  place  myself  in  the 
attitude  of  a  seeker  for  any  change,  and  least  of  all  such  a  change 
as  he  contemplated  ;  that  were  I  to  receive  a  unanimous  call  from 
St.  Stephen's  to-morrow,  I  should  think  it  misdirected,  and  feel  it 
my  duty  to  decline." 

Having  already   made  arrangements  for  visiting  Burlington,  he 


1834.]  CHRIST   CHURCH.  141 

did  not  feel,  after  this  ])lain  and  unequivocal  avowal,  any  delicacy 
in  carrying  out  these  arrangements.  Accordingly,  he  prepared  to 
commence  his  journey  on  the  6tli  of  May,  but  was  detained  for  a 
day  or  two  by  a  violent  storm.  In  the  mean  time,  he  states  to  his 
father  that  he  had  received  a  letter  from  his  friend  Doane,  disavow- 
ing any  undue  officiousness  in  suffering  his  name  to  come  before  the 
people  of  St.  Stephen's,  telling  him,  however,  at  the  same  time, 
witli  accustomed  plainness,  that  his  "fastidiousness  was  whimsical 
and  absurd  in  the  last  degree."  And  "so,"  he  adds,  "the  baseless 
fabric  of  that  vision  is  dissolved,  much  to  my  mind,  and  to  the  relief 
of  many  minds  here."  He  pursued  his  journey  to  New  York,  Bur- 
lington, and  Philadelphia,  and  returned  by  the  way  of  New  Haven, 
where  he  spent  several  days,  and,  in  consequence  of  the  illness  of 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Keese,  was  persi^aded  to  supply  the  pulpits  of  the  two 
churches  in  alternation  with  his  father.  He  finally  returned  to 
Boston  on  the  31st  of  May,  having,  according  to  his  own  account, 
had  a  most  delightful  excursion.  His  first  letter  after  his  return, 
June  2,  is  full  of  thanksgiving  and  praise.  "  Laus  Deo  !  Praise 
the  Lord,  O  my  soul,  and  all  that  is  within  me  praise  his  holy  name. 
.  .  .  To  conclude  as  I  began,  I  trust  I  have  a  grateful  sense 
of  His  mercy,  who  has  thus  far  kept  me  under  the  care  of  his  good 
providence,  and  conducted  me  in  safety  to  the  end  of  my  journey, 
and  shall  endeavor  to  manifest  it  by  more  singleness  of  desire  to 
live  to  his  glory." 

•lune  9,  he  speaks  of  having  heard,  from  his  friend  Doane,  that 
his  parish  at  Burlington  had  provided  the  means  for  employing  an 
assistant.  "Of  course,"  he  adds,  "  of  all  the  world  he  would  prefer 
me.  But  no  :  I  have  one  answer  for  that  and  all  other  applications 
at  present.  My  hour  is  not  yet  come.  When  the  clock  which  I 
am  set  to  wind  up  here  runs  down,  and  it  is  all  over,  I  shall  flee 
to  some  other  city.  But  I  cannot  conscientiously  go  yet.  I  think 
better  days  will  come,  and  that  speedily.  Whether  or  not,  I  trust 
I  shall  have  patience  given  me  to  wait  and  see."  In  another  part 
of  this  letter,  he  alludes  with  much  sadness  to  the  impaired  health 
of  Mr.  Keese  :  "I  am  sorry  for  the  cloud  that  seems  destined  to 
darken  the  brightness  of  your  prospects.  Try,  however,  to  relieve 
your  mind  of  too  much  anxiety  for  the  future.  Hitherto  hath  the 
Lord  wonderfully  helped  you,  and  he  will  yet  mercifully  provide.  I 
trust  Mr.  Keese's  health  will  be  restored,  and  that  the  relations  so 
pleasantly  begun  will  yet  be  continued  for  many  a  year." 

One  event  took  place  this  summer,  which  is  here  alluded  to,  not 
because  it  is  necessarily  connected  with  the  subject  of  these  memoirs, 
but  because  attempts  were  very  unjustly  made,  in  certain  quarters, 
at  the  time,  to  involve  him  in  some  censure  with  regard  to  the 
scandalous  transaction.     This  event  was  the  wilful  burning  of  the 


142  MEMOm   OF  WILLIAM    CROSW^ELL.  [1834. 

nunnery,  or  Ursuline  Convent,  on  Mount  Benedict,  in  Charlestown, 
on  the  evening  of  the  11th  of  August.  It  is  first  noted  in  his  diary, 
August  12 :  "  Papers  filled  with  accounts  of  the  abominable  out- 
rages of  the  evening  previous,  in  the  destruction  of  the  Ursuline 
Convent,  at  Charlestown,  by  fire."  And  in  a  letter  of  the  same 
date,  he  says,  "  I  open  my  letter  to  state  that  the  nunnery  at  Charles- 
town, of  which  I  have  told  you  something,  was  destroyed  last  night 
by  a  regularly-organized  mob,  the  interior  being  entirely  consumed 
by  fire,  and  the  walls  only  standing.  The  superior,  nuns,  and  board- 
ers were  allowed  one  hour  only  to  transport  themselves  to  places 
of  safety.  I  fear  it  will  be  but  the  beginning  of  sorrows,  the  Irish 
population  being  so  numerous,  and  their  feelings  so  much  exasper- 
ated. I  know  all  the  particulars  from  an  authentic  source,  and 
will  give  them  at  another  opportunity."  These  particulars  were 
subsequently  transmitted  to  his  father,  in  the  shape  of  authentic 
documents,  under  an  injunction  that  they  be  returned  immediately 
after  perusal.  They  threw  but  little  light,  however,  on  the  causes 
of  the  outrage.  But  the  public  feeling  had  probably  been  somewhat 
prepared  to  tolerate  almost  any  species  of  violence  by  the  exagger- 
ated reports  of  the  iniquities  practised  in  the  convent.  A  Miss 
Reed,  an  inmate  of  the  institution,  had  contrived  to  escape  from 
what  she  considered  an  irksome  bondage,  and  had  made  representa- 
tions, the  sincerity  of  which  was  never  doubted,  and  which  were 
of  course  extremely  grating  to  Protestant  ears.  But  Miss  Reed 
never  manifested  any  mischievous  spirit.  Slie  quietly  sought  the 
counsel  of  the  rector  of  Christ  Church,  and  carefully  avoided  saying 
any  tiling  that  might  excite  public  indignation.  Injudicious  and 
designing  persons,  however,  took  up  the  theme,  and,  by  gross  ex- 
aggeration and  exciting  appeals  to  the  worst  passions  of  man,  no 
doubt  brought  about  the  disgraceful  event.  Miss  Reed,  in  the  mean 
time,  embraced  the  Protestant  faith,  became  a  member,  and  died  in 
the  communion  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church.*    The  outrage 

*  Miss  Reed  died  on  the  28th  of  February,  1838  ;  and  it  is  but  simple  jus- 
tice to  record  the  followiiig  authentic  testimony  of  the  manner  in  which  she 
closed  her  eventful  lite.  It  is  transcribed  fi-om  a  letter  of  March  5,  in  that 
year.  "  You  have  doubtless  noticed  in  the  papers  the  death  of  Miss  Reed, 
formerly  of  the  Ursuline  community.  She  has  been  fading  away  with  con- 
sumption for  the  last  year.  I  was  not  aware  of  her  situation  till  about  two 
months  since,  and  frequently  visited  her.  Her  mind  was  much  weakened  by 
disease,  but  her  faith  was  clear  and  her  hope  bright.  She  was  indeed  anxious 
to  dejmrt  betbre  her  time  came,  and  longed  for  death  as  a  merciful  release  from 
a  life  of  perturbation.  I  felt  it  my  duty,  under  the  solemnities  of  approaching 
death  and  judgment,  to  question  her  concerning  the  truth  of  her  printed  state- 
ment respecting  the  convent ;  and  she  assured  me,  with  deej)  feeling,  that  it 
was,  to  the  best  of  her  knowledge,  a  faitliful  record  ;  that  she  did  not  pretend 
that  she  had  not  been  liable  to  error,  but  that  she  had  not  intentionally  mis- 
represented a  single  circumstance.  I  did  not  need  this  declaration  for  my  own 
satisfaction,  tor  I  never  doubted  her  design  to  tell  the  whole  truth  and  nothing 
but  the  truth,  with  regard  to  her  connection  with  the  place,  but  thought  it 
might  hereafter  be  important,  in  order  to  put  gainsayers  to  silence.     In  the 


1834.]  CHRIST   CHURCH.  143 

came  near  to  producing  the  most  fearful  result.  The  excitement 
aniong  the  Irish  Roman  CathoHc  population  in  Boston  was  tremen- 
dous, and  revenge  and  retaliation  were  openly  threatened  by  immense 
gatherings  of  these  exasperated  people.  It  required  indeed  all  the 
energy  and  address  of  their  bishop  and  resident  priests  to  restrain 
the  tumult,  and  persuade  their  followers  to  leave  to  the  public 
authorities  to  punish  the  transgressors,  and  indemnify  the  sufferers 
for  their  loss.  In  dismissing  the  subject,  it  is  but  proper  to  say,  that 
the  offenders  were  never  punished,  nor  the  loss  of  property  ever 
made  up  to  the  Romish  Church.  Mount  Benedict,  on  which  the 
building  stood,  remains  naked  and  bare,  and  covered  only  with 
ruins,  to  tell  a  tale  of  reproach  which  a  great  and  enlightened  com- 
monwealth should  be  impatient  to  bear. 

In  taking  up  again  the  golden  thread  which  runs  through  the 
whole  texture  of  his  being,  it  is  but  natural  to  recur,  with  undis- 
guised satisfaction,  to  the  flattering  manner  in  which  some  of  his 
earlier  devotional  poetry  was  brought,  in  a  substantial  form,  before 
the  public,  blended,  too,  with  a  name  as  familiar  as  it  is  dear  to  the 
Christian  world.  He  alludes  to  the  subject  in  a  letter  of  March  10, 
when,  speaking  of  his  friend  Bishop  Doane,  he  says,  "  He  is  getting 
out  an  edition  of  Keble's  '  Christian  Year,'  and  talks  of  gather- 
ing some  of  my  favorite  pieces  in  an  appendix,  '  that  he  may  send 
us  down  to  posterity  together.'  The  Lord  knows  I  have  no  poetical 
ambition  ;  and  I  wish  I  had  no  other,  uidess,  indeed,  to  help  build 
up  the  purity  and  bliss  of  His  Kingdom  before  I  die."  In  due  time 
the  volume  appeared,  inscribed  to  the  young  poet  in  these  kind  and 
aftectionate  terms  :  — 

"  To    MY    NEXT    Friend    and    moee    than    Brother,    the    Rev.    William 
Croswell,  Rector  op  Christ  Church,  Boston,  these  pious  Breathings 
of  a  kindred  spirit  are  most  affectionately  inscribed.     g.  w.  d. 
"  St.  Mary's  PARsoNAfiE,  Bitrlingtok,  May  27,  1834." 

Instead,  however,  of  gathering  these  selected  pieces  in  an  appen- 
dix, they  were  mingled-  in  their  appropriate  places,  with  the  explan- 
atory notes,  illustrations,  and  additions  with  which  the  work  was 
enriched.  The  first  selection,  a  "  Hymn  for  Advent,"  was  intro- 
duced by  this  highly  complimentary  note  :   "  The  lines  which  follow 

obituary  notice,  in  some  of  the  papers,  I  was  sorry  to  see  the  matter  alluded  to 
in  any  way,  and  especially  in  such  unhappy  phraseology.  It  would  seem  to  a 
stranger  as  if  the  communion  was  administered  to  her  as  a  sort  of  sacramental 
test  or  oath,  whereas  it  was  on  a  separate  occasion,  and  some  time  previous.  I 
should  deprecate  any  revival  of  the  public  agitation  with  regard  to  her,  and 
hope  her  ashes  will  be  allowed  to  rest  in  quiet.  She  evinced  great  sweetness 
and  purity  of  character  during  her  whole  sickness,  and  her  last  hovirs  were 
very  edifjing.  Her  departme  was  easy  and  full  of  peace.  I  attended  her 
funeral  at  East  Cambridge,  on  Friday." 


144  MEMOm  OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1834. 

are  from  the  pen  of  the  beloved  friend  to  whom  this  volume  is 
inscribed.  Its  pages  will  afford  other  evidence  of  the  justice  with 
which  his  name  has  been  associated  with  the  honored  name  of 
Keble,  as  «a  kindred  spirit.'  Were  he  aware  of  the  designed 
association,  liis  gentle  and  retiring  nature  would,  I  know,  forbid  it. 
But  one  who,  for  nine  years,  was  with  him  almost  daily,  and  shared 
his  secret  thoughts,  must  claim  to  know  him  better  than  he  knows 
himself;  and  he  does  not  fear  that  Keble  will  not  welcome  the 
companionship."  The  other  selections  were  "  Christmas  Eve," 
"Martyrdom  of  Stephen,"  "  Epiphany,"  "De  Profundis,"  "Clouds," 
and  "  The  Ordinal."  After  the  work  had  passed  through  the  press, 
he  writes,  "  Bishop  Doane's  edition  of  Keble  is  printed,  but  not 
published.  I  fear  almost  to  see  it.  My  own  rhymes  will  appear 
very  slim,  I  fear,  in  the  contrast."  In  a  letter  of  a  later  date,  he 
says,  "  I  have  some  copies  of  Keble's  '  Christian  Year,'  presenta- 
tion gifts  from  the  editor.  Your  son's  name  occurs  in  it  more  fre- 
quently than  his  modesty  can  approve."  Writing,  at  the  same  time, 
to  his  friend.  Rev.  Dr.  Strong,  of  Greenfield,  Mass.,  he  says,  "  My 
gratification  at  the  republication  of  Keble  would  have  been  as  entire 
and  unmingled  as  yours,  were  my  own  name  less  conspicuously 
connected  with  it,  and  none  of  my  rhymes  brought  into  so  disad- 
vantageous contrast.  I  am  still  so  unsophisticated  and  unpractised 
in  the  arts  of  able  authors,  that  I  must  blush  at  such  undeserved 
praise.  Of  the  productions  of  the  editor's  own  pen,  it  gives  me 
delight  to  join  in  the  most  unqualified  commendation." 

The  following  pieces  are  drawn  from  various  sources.  They 
were  probably  written  the  present  year,  but  in  some  few  cases  are 
without  date.  The  subjoined  impromptu  was  doubtless  called  forth 
by  an  excursion  which  he  made  to  Nahant,  August  11 ;  and  those 
who  have  ever  visited  that  famous  summer  resort  >\ill  at  once 
adtnowledge  the  perfect  correctness  of  the  sketch. 

NAHANT. 

Rocks,  sands,  and  seas, 

What  charms  hast  thou  but  these, 

O  desolate  Nahant ! 
Rocks,  sands,  and  seas. 
Twelve  grotesque  cottages, 
And  six  storm-beaten  trees. 

Struck  all  aslant ! 

But  this  is  but  an  episode  among  more  grave  and  solemn  strains. 
The  following  are  transcribed  in  the  order  in  which  they  are  found 
in  his  own  manuscript  collections. 


1834.1  CHRIST   CHUIICII.  145 


FOX'S  BOOK   OF  MARTYRS.* 

T  well  remember,  from  my  earliest  age, 

How,  with  a  yearning  heart,  I  loved  to  look, 
Old  Chronicler,  upon  thy  pictured  page. 

That  lent  a  glory  to  thy  Martyrs'  Book  ; 
And  as  I  saw  the  patient  sufferers  there. 

Like  the  three  children  in  the  furnace  flame, 
Without  a  smell  of  fire,  unsinged  their  hair, 

From  year  to  year  unaltered  and  the  same, 
I  thought  that  even  martyrdom  was  light. 

And  counted  them  as  happy  who  endured 
A  fire  no  fiercer  than  it  seemed  to  sight. 

Of  God's  good  will  eternally  secured ! 
Thus  do  we  look  on  sufferings  yet  untried, 
Wliich  man  can  only  bear,  when  Heaven  is  on  his  side ! 
September,  1834. 


AFRICA. 

Princes  shall  come  from  Egypt,  and 

The  path  of  life  be  trod 
By  myriads,  when  the  Morian's  land 

Shall  stretch  her  hand  to  God ; 
Then  Gush,  and  Ophir,  and  the  sea 

No  idle  gifts  shall  bring. 
But  soul  and  body  both  shall  be 

Their  grateful  offering. 

The  Ethiop  may  not  change  his  skin, 

Nor  leopard  change  his  spot ; 
But  God  can  work  a  change  within, 

Though  man  observeth  not. 
A  holier  dawn  shall  chase  the  night, 

And  darkness  pass  away. 
And  these  shall  also  "  walk  in  white,' 

In  Heaven's  eternal  day. 
October,  1834. 


See  Fuller's  Mixed  Contemplations,  xxi.  p.  92. 
19 


146  MEMOm   OF  WILLIAM   CEOSWELL.  [1834. 


BAPTISMAL  HYMN.* 

Let  the  infant  soldier  now 

With  the  hallowed  cross  be  signed ; 
Bind  the  frontlet  on  his  brow 

Time  and  death  cannot  unbind  ! 
Words  of  earnest  faith  and  prayer, 

Drops  of  consecrated  dew, 
They  can  work  a  wonder  there 

Earth's  enchantments  never  knew. 

Happy  mother !  sealed  and  blessed, 

To  your  arms  your  treasure  take, 
With  the  Savior's  mark  impressed, 

Nurse  it  for  the  Savior's  sake. 
So  the  holy  work  begin. 

Ever  doing,  never  done, 
Till,  redeemed  from  all  our  sin, 

Heaven's  eternal  crown  be  won. 


SUNDAY   SCHOOL  HYMN. 

The  sparrow  finds  a  home, 

The  little  bird  a  nest ; 
Deep  in  thy  dwellings,  Lord,  they  come. 

And  fold  their  wings  to  rest. 
And  shall  ive  be  afraid 

Our  little  ones  to  bring 
Within  thine  ancient  altar's  shade, 

And  underneath  thy  wing ! 

There,  guard  them  as  thine  eye, 

There,  keep  them  without  spot, 
That  when  the  Spoiler  passeth  by. 

Destruction  touch  them  not. 
There,  nerve  their  souls  with  might, 

There,  nurse  them  with  thy  love. 
There,  plume  them  for  their  final  flight 

To  blessedness  above. 


*  The  reader  should  be  apprised  that  this  Hymn  is  not  strictly  original  iu 
thought  and  sentiment,  though  the  versification  is  all  his  own.  It  may  be 
considered  as  rather  a  paraphrase  of  two  stanzas  of  Keble's  "Holy  Baptism." 


1834.]  CHRIST   CHURCH.  147 


TO 


Fair  child !  thou  fillest  mine  eye  M'ith  tears, 

For  thou  carriest  back  my  mind 
To  the  sinless  days  which  the  flight  of  years 

Has  left  so  far  behind  : 
And  I  search  my  shrinking  self  to  know 

How  the  spirit,  so  darkened  now, 
Can  be  purged  of  its  manhood's  guilt  and  woe, 

And  be  pure  once  more  as  thou. 

Again,  thou  carriest  on  my  thought 

To  the  vision  of  things  before, 
When  the  last  great  battle  with  sin  is  fought, 

And  the  struggle  of  death  is  o'er ; 
For  in  vain  our  Heaven  we  hope  to  see, 

And  our  Savior  undefiled, 
Till  we  learn  his  lesson  of  such  as  thee. 

And  become  like  a  little  child  ! 


Among  the  remaining-  incidents  of  this  year,  there  are  few  that 
require  any  full  or  special  notice.  He  made  an  excursion  home- 
wards, leaving  Boston  August  24,  and,  after  stopping  for  two  or  three 
days  at  Brooklyn  and  Norwich,  arrived  at  New  Haven  on  the  28th. 
He  expected  to  liave  met  his  brother  Sherman,  that  they  might 
enjoy  their  visit  together ;  but  in  this  lie  was  disappointed,  for 
Sherman  did  not  arrive  until  the  moment  when  he  was  taking  his 
seat  for  his  return  to  Boston,  on  tlie  5th  of  September.  He  arrived 
at  Boston  on  the  6th,  and  on  the  following  day,  Sunday,  he  says, 
"I  officiated  twice,  besides  administering  tlie  communion,  and 
baptizing  four  children,  and  do  not  feel  any  uncommon  degree  of 
lassitude."  Speaking  incidentally  of  the  accommodation  stages,  in 
contrast  with  those  of  tlie  steamboat  line,  he  remarks,  "  I  have 
never,  I  am  sure,  so  fully  realized  the  force  of  what  moralists  have 
written  ogainst  the  stage,  and  its  dangerous  and  corrupting  influences, 
as  I  did  when  dragging  through  the  mud  at  three  miles  per  hour, 
when  the  rain  made  the  night  as  dark  as  Egypt,  and  the  proprietors 
could  not  afford  lights,  crowded  in  with  nine  passengers,  some  of 
whom  would  infect  a  whole  community,  and  all  curtained  down,  to 
make  them  the  more  redolent.  O,  it  has  a  dreadful  effect  upon  the 
temper."  He  proceeds  to  speak  of  a  subject  in  which  lie  felt  deeply 
interested  :  "  They  have  set  to  work  to  repair  the  old  church  in  real 
earnest.  The  steeple  is  invested  with  scaflfolding,  and  the  cellar  of 
the  new  vestry  almost  excavated.      The  business  is  going  on  with 


148  MEMOIR    OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1834. 

great  spirit  in  both  parts,  and  will  soon  be  completed.  Think  of 
our  weathercock  weighing  one  hundred  and  sixteen  pounds,  and 
more  than  six  feet  long  —  not  so  light  a  matter  as  weathercocks 
generally  are  supposed  to  be  !  "  On  the  12th  he  notes  in  his  diary, 
"  Wrote  something  to  put  in  the  hall  of  the  steeple,  arranged  in  the 
shape  of  a  cross."      Of  this  composition  no  copy  can  be  found. 

In  his  diary  of  November  3,  and  his  letter  of  the  same  date,  he 
speaks  of  the  sickness  of  his  friend  Doane,  and  of  his  expectation 
of  an  immediate  summons  to  attend  him ;  and  the  information 
received  the  following  day  induced  him  to  proceed  without  delay. 
He  left  Boston  for  Burlington  by  way  of  Providence  ;  and  his  next 
letter  is  dated  at  Burlington,  November  7,  and  gives  a  particular 
account  of  the  severe  attack  by  which  the  bishop's  strength  was 
prostrated.  He  was  now,  however,  convalescent,  with  every  pros- 
pect of  a  speedy  and  complete  recovery.  "  To-day,"  he  says, 
"  being,  I  believe,  my  thirtieth  birthday,  and  a  glorious  day  indeed 
for  the  season,  he  has  walked  out  with  me,  for  the  first  time, 
besides  taking  a  ride  of  an  hour  in  the  carriage  of  one  of  his  excel- 
lent neighbors."  Before  he  closes  this  letter,  he  adds,  "Notwith- 
standing the  illness  of  the  bishop,  he  managed  to  write  me  a  tender 
and  atiectionate  sonnet  on  my  thirtieth  birthday,  in  a  little  pres- 
entatit>n  volume  of  Coleridge's  poetry."  It  is  here  transcribed,  as 
exceedingly  creditable  to  both  parties. 


"PERENNIS   ET  FRAGRANS." 

William,  my  brother  and  my  bosom  friend ! 
For  thrice  ten  years  the  sun,  this  blessed  day, 
Has  lighted  thee  along  hfe's  checkered  way, 

Serene  and  placid  towards  thy  journey's  end. 

One  third  the  distance  we  have  trod  together, 
Hand  grasping  hand,  and  heart  enclosed  in  heart, 
Each  of  the  other's  life,  breath,  being,  part, 

Breasting  as  one  time's  rough  and  rugged  weather. 

Poet  and  Priest,  as  in  thy  face  I  look. 

So  full  of  thought,  so  tranquil,  so  benign, 
With  pride  of  soul  to  hail  thee  friend  of  mine, 

I  greet  thee  with  the  legend  of  this  book :  — 
"  Fragrant  and  lasting  "  be  thy  memory  here, 
And  then  a  fadeless  crown  through  heaven's  immortal  year ! 

G.  W.  D. 


He  was  compelled,  while   on  this  mission  of  love  and  sympathy, 
to  pass  by  New  Haven,  and  return  to  his  duties.     After  apologizing 


1834.]  CHllIST   CHCJKCII.  149 

for  this  omission,  he  details  some  interesting'  particulars  toiicliing 
his  domestic  and  parocliial  rehitions,  and  thus  closes  a  letter  of 
November  23:  "  My  feet  have  stood  in  the  courts  of  the  Lord's 
house  thrice  this  day,  and  thrice  have  I  opened  my  mouth  hetween 
the  porch  and  the  altar,  none  having  ministered  for  me  in  tlie  order 
of  my  course.  I  am  fresh,  as  if  I  had  had  nothing  to  do."  On 
the  week  following  he  details  the  same  amount  of  services  ;  and 
then,  again,  on  the  9th  of  Decemher,  he  writes,  "  I  had  rather  a 
severe  drauglit  upon  my  capabilities  on  Sunday.  After  preparing 
and  preaching  a  funeral  sermon  duriug  the  week,  my  three  services 
and  both  sacraments  came  near  to  exhausting  me.  My  strength, 
however,  was  sufficient,  by  the  grace  of  God,  and  not  only  held  out, 
but  left  me  much  less  weak  and  weary  to-day  than  I  could  have 
anticipated.  I  shall  be  as  moderate  as  I  can,  and  reserve  my 
remaining  force,  when  I  most  expect  to  need  it,  for  Christmas  and 
the  accompanying  festivals.  ...  I  rejoice  greatly  in  the  ac- 
counts of  your  prosperity.  May  it  be  ever  so.  And  whether  all 
things  be  ordered  according  to  our  wishes,  the  Lord  give  us  grace 
to  possess  our  souls  in  submission  to  his  gracious  will.  My  own 
affairs  continue  to  be  promising,  and  I  am  most  grateful  that  the 
interests  committed  to  me  have  not  apparently  suffered  in  my  hands. 
I  trust  it  will  ever  be  the  first  desire  of  my  heart,  that  I  may  be  able 
to  answer  wy;h  a  good  conscience  for  tlie  awful  account  of  souls, 
and  render  that  account  with  joy,  and  not  with  grief.  Pray  for  me, 
even  as  I  also  do  for  you." 

In  a  subsequent  letter,  after  speaking  in  terms  of  high  commen- 
dation of  a  neat  little  periodical,  issued  by  Bishop  Doane,  entitled 
The  Missionary,  he  intimates  his  own  intentions  with  regard  to  the 
future  productions  of  his  pen  :  "  In  the  department  of  sacred  poe- 
try, I  shall  lay  myself  out  more  than  I  have  done.  I  am  frequently 
applied  to  by  my  friends  to  make  a  collection  of  my  verses,  but 
have  no  ambition  to  court  criticism,  or  stir  up  the  malicious  tribe 
of  rival  geniuses  to  speak  all  manner  of  evil  against  me  falsely.  I 
should  like,  however,  to  have  them  preserved  in  the  family,  and  shall 
be  obliged  to  you  to  insert  in  the  volumes  which  were  sent  to  you 
any  occasional  effiision  which  you  know  to  be  mine.  I  keep  a 
record  of  all  wl)ich  I  have  written  recently,  which  I  will  bring  with 
me  on  my  next  visit,  and  complete  your  edition." 

it  is  to  be  regretted  that  these  collections  and  records  have  not 
been  found  as  full  and  complete  as  could  have  been  desired.  From 
various  sources,  however,  may  be  gathered  nearly  all  that  will  be 
necessary  to  satisfy  his  friends.  A  few  more  selections  will  fill  up 
the  record  for  the  present  year. 

The  following  hues  were  sent  to  his  mother,  near  the  close  of  the 
year,  accompanied  by  a  note  demonstrating  his  truly  filial  affection 


150  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAIM   CROSWELL.  [1834. 

and  veneration :  "  I  trust  these  lines  will  not  be  unacceptable,  as  a 
token  that  you  are  in  the  multitude  of  my  best  thoughts  and  prayers 
and  feelings.  I  only  wish  you  were  there  to  as  much  purpose  as  I 
know  I  am  in  yours.  1  have  not  stopped  to  consider  whether  they 
are  good  poetry ;  but  I  know  that  the  sentiment  is  true,  and  that 
assurance  will  be  worth  more  to  you  than  any  thing  else." 


TO  MY  MOTHER. 

My  mother !  many  a  burning  word 

Would  not  suffice  the  love  to  tell 
With  which  my  inmost  soul  is  stirred, 

As  thoughts  of  thee  my  bosom  swell : 
But  better  I  should  ill  express 

The  passion  thus,  than  leave  untold 
The  glow  of  filial  tenderness 

Which  never  in  my  heart  grows  cold. 

Oft,  as  I  muse  o'er  all  the  wrong, 

The  silent  grief,  the  secret  pain, 
My  froward  youth  has  caused,  I  long 

To  live  my  childhood  o'er  again ; 
And  yet  they  were  not  all  in  vain, 

The  lessons  which  thy  love  then  taught ; 
Nor  always  has  it  dormant  lain. 

The  fire  from  thy  example  caught. 

And  now,  as  feelings  all  divine' 

With  deepest  power  my  spirit  touch, 
I  feel  as  if  some  prayer  of  thine. 

My  mother !  were  availing  much. 
And  thus  availing,  more  and  more, 

O,  be  it  thine,  in  bliss,  to  see 
The  hopes  with  which  thy  heart  runs  o'er, 

In  fondest  hour,  fulfilled  in  me ! 


It  was  at  the  close  of  this  year  that  he  commenced  a  series  of 
Hymns,  which  he  styles  the  "  Horology,  or  Dial  of  Prayer," 
with  the  following  general  caption  and  appropriate  motto :  — 


1834.]  C:TIRIST   CHTTRrH  ISl 


HYMNS   OF  THE  ANCIENT   TIME. 


•  dcsirpth  new ;  for  he  saith,  The  old  is  better." 


HOROLOGY,  OR  DIAL   OF  PRAYER. 


Thou  who  hast  put  the  times  and  seasons  in  thine  own  power.    Acts  i.  7. 
Grant  that  we  may  pray  unto  thee  in  a  fit  and  acceptable  time.   Psalm  Ixix.  13. 


O  Savior !  I  would  spend  the  hours 

Canonical  with  Thee, 
As  tolls  the  clock  from  yonder  towers 

At  nine,  and  twelve,  and  three ; 
At  primes,  and  lauds,  and  matin  bell, 

And  compline,  rise  and  pray, 
And  tell  my  blessed  rosary 

At  the  decline  of  day. 

At  vespers,  and  at  nocturns  late, 

When  suns  have  ceased  to  shine, 
On  my  devotion's  dial  plate 

Still  shed  thy  light  divine  ; 
And  as  the  holy  vigil  yields 

In  turn  to  holy  dream, 
O,  let  my  Savior  be  through  all 

My  glory  and  ray  theme. 


I, 

MIDNIGHT  HYMN. 

"  At  midnight  I  will  rise  to  give  thanks  unto  thee."  Kmg  David. 

"  And  at  midnight,  Paul  and  Silas  prayed,  and  sang  praises  unto  God ;  and 
the  prisoners  heard  them."  Acts  of  the  Holy  Apostles. 

Thy  praises.  Lord,  at  midnight  broke 
Through  chambers  where  a  monarch  woke ; 
Thy  midnight  praise,  with  choral  swell. 
Rang  through  the  chained  Apostles'  cell ; 
Alike  to  thee  each  place  was  made, 
In  palace  or  in  prison  laid  ; 
The  royal  pomps,  the  grated  door. 
The  captive  and  the  conqueror. 


So  grant  us.  Lord,  a  song  of  power 
To  charm  away  the  midnight  hour ; 


152  MEMOIE   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL. 

In  prosperous  state  be  ours  to  sing- 
In  spirit  with  the  Minstrel  King  ; 
And  cheer  us,  when  our  hopes  are  dim, 
As  with  thy  servants'  dungeon  hymn  ; 
And  when  our  watch,  like  theirs,  is  done, 
May  worlds,  without  a  night,  be  won. 


n. 

COCK  CROWING. 

"  And  immediately,  while  he  yet  apake,  the  cock  crew  ;  and  the  Lord  turned 
and  looked  upon  Peter.  And  Peter  remembered  the  word  of  the  Lord,  how  he 
had  eaid  unto  him,  Before  the  cock  crow,  thou  shall  deny  me  thrice.  And 
Peter  went  out  and  wept  bitterly."  *  Gospel, 

The  Eye  that  softened  as  it  smote, 

While  crew  the  cock,  with  mighty  spell, 
Far  through  the  maddening  crowd  remote, 

Upon  his  shrinking  servant  fell ; 
Then  woke  the  guilty  shame  within. 

And  conscience,  which  so  long  had  slept ; 
And  He  alone  who  knew  the  sin, 

Could  know  how  bitterly  he  wept. 

If,  Master,  we  thy  cause  betray, 

Ofl  as  the  cock  repeats  its  call, 
Turn  not  thy  piercing  eye  away 

Till  we  are  conscious  of  our  fall. 
Like  Peter,  let  us  weep  alone 

In  sorrow,  secret  as  sincere. 
Till  Thou,  to  whom  our  griefs  are  known, 

Shalt  dry  the  penitential  tear ! 


ni. 

NOONDAY. 

"  Now  Jacob's  well  was  there  :  Jesus,  therefore,  being  wearied  with  his  joui* 
ney,  sat  thus  on  the  well,  aud  it  was  about  the  sixth  hour."  t  QospeL 

O  Thou,  who,  in  the  languid  noon. 
By  Sychar's  well,  didst  open  wide 

*  "  It  appears,  from  a  passage  of  the  Talmud,  that  domestic  fowls  were  not 
tolerated  in  Jerusalem  ;  and  admitting  its  authority  to  be  indisputable,  it  will 
not  be  difficult  to  reconcile  this  fact  with  the  record  of  the  Evangelists.  For 
as  the  palace  of  Caiajihas  was  at  no  great  distance  from  the  suburbs,  the  crow- 
ing of  a  cock  Avithout  the  walls  might  be  clearly  heard  in  the  stillness  of  tlu^ 
evening.  Unusual  as  it  may  have  been,  the  scream  of  an  eagle  would  not  have 
more  startled  the  ear  of  the  apostate  Apostle."   Middleton,  Greek  Article,  p.  1-13. 

t  In  the  time  of  our  Savior,  the  day  was  divided  into  twelve  hours,  equal  to 


1834.]  CHRIST   CHURCH. 

To  wondering  eyes  a  better  boon 

Than  e'er  tlieir  fathers'  fount  supplied ; 

Up,  where  thy  brightest  glories  burn, 
Our  fainting  souls,  at  every  stage, 

For  thy  celestial  succor  turn, 
In  this,  our  weary  pilgrimage  ! 


When,  from  the  sun's  meridian  glow, 

We  seek  refreshment  and  repose. 
Do  Thou  thy  heavenly  gifts  bestow, 

And  all  the  stores  of  life  unclose  ; 
Thence,  quench  the  fervid  spirit's  thirst, 

Thence,  fill  us  as  with  angel's  food, 
Till,  day  by  day,  our  souls  are  nursed 

For  their  divine  beatitude ! 


IV. 

ANOTHER  FOR  NOONDAY. 

"Peter  went  up  upon  the  house  top  to  pray,  about  the  sixth  hour;  and  he 
became  very  hungry,  and  would  have  eaten ;  but  while  they  made  ready,  he 
fell  into  a  trance,  and  saw  heaven  opened,  and  a  certain  vessel  descending  unto 
him,  as  it  had  been  a  great  sheet,  knit  at  the  four  comers,  and  let  Jown  to  the 
earth."  Acts  of  the  Apostles. 

Though  on  the  house  top,  Lord,  unseen, 

How  oft,  at  noon,  I  fain  would  rise, 
Where  nought  of  earth  could  come  between 

My  lifted  spirit  and  the  skies ! 
But  short  the  conquest  over  sense ; 

On  rapture's  wing  though  high  we  soar, 
Too  soon  the  fleshly  influence 

Resumes  its  reign,  and  dreams  are  o'er. 

Yet  still  the  Church,  let  down  to  earth, 

Without  a  trance,  'tis  ours  to  see, 
Where,  cleansed  from  stain  of  mortal  birth. 

In  Jesus'  blood  we  all  may  be. 
There  may  the  soul  its  work  complete. 

And  with  the  hosts  of  men  forgiven, 
Enveloped  in  that  mighty  sheet. 

Be  safely  taken  up  to  Heaven. 


each  other,  but  unequal  with  respect  to  tlie  different  seasons  of  the  year.     Tlie 
sixth,  of  co\irse,  was  at  all  times  answerable  to  noon. 
20 


154  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSAVELL.  -1834. 

V. 
NINTH  HOUR,  THREE  O'CLOCK,  P.  M. 

TIME    OF    DAILY    EVENING   SERVICE. 

"  Now  Peter  and  John  went  up  together  into  the  temple  at  the  hour  of  prayer, 
being  the  ninth  hour ;  and  a  certain  man,  lame  from  his  mother's  womb,  was 
carried,  whom  they  laid  daily  at  the  gate  of  the  temple  which  is  called  Beau- 
tiful, to  ask  alms  of  them  that  entered  into  the  temple."   Acts  of  the  ApoatP". 

How  dear  to  those  on  God  who  wait, 

The  paths  which  to  his  dwelling  lead ! 
And  every  Christian  temple  gate, 

Is  it  not  Beautiful  indeed  ? 
For  there  our  holiest  joys  unfold, 

And  trains  of  lovelier  graces  fill 
These  lowly  courts,  than  when  of  old 

His  sole  abode  was  Zion's  Hill. 

O,  as  thou  enterest  in,  be  sure 

To  try  the  spirit  of  thy  mind  ; 
Ask  if  its  love  to  God  be  pure, 

And  true  its  love  to  humankind. 
Bring  Faith,  and  Hope  ;  and  be  Thou  nigh, 

The  best  and  greatest  of  the  three, 
Binding  in  one  delightful  tie 

All  heaven  and  earth,  sweet  Charity ! 

VI. 
EVENTIDE. 

"  And  Isaac  went  out  to  meditate  in  the  field  at  the  eventide;  and  he  lifted 
np  lus  eyes,  and  saw,  and  behold,  the  camels  were  coming." 

Beneath  the  shade  of  pensive  eve. 

By  Heaven  impelled,  the  patriarch's  mind 

Could  wander  from  itself,  and  leave 
The  grovelling  cares  of  life  behind. 

Led  by  the  same  almighty  love, 

When  all  below  is  dark  and  dull, 
We  still  may  rise  to  scenes  above, 

Where  all  is  bright  and  beautiful. 

Our  souls  may  go  as  Isaac  went, 

And  find,  each  eve,  a  lovelier  field 
Than  e'en  the  gorgeous  Orient 

To  his  enraptured  sense  could  yield. 


1835.]  CHRIST   CHURCH.  Id5 

And  while,  in  meditation  sweet, 

We  seem  to  breathe  a  heavenlier  air, 
All  that  we  most  desire  to  meet 

Shall  bless  our  longing  vision  there. 


1835. 


The  record  of  this  year  will  be  drawn  chiefly  from  his  corre- 
spondence, and,  with  few  exceptions,  from  his  letters  to  his  father, 
with  occasional  references  to  his  daily  journal.  These  extracts 
must  necessarily  be  brief,  and  may  often  seem  desultory  and  dis- 
jointed, from  the  constant  intervention  of  private  and  familiar  allu- 
sions, which  are  not  suitable  for  transcribing.  No  more  is  selected 
than  may  be  properly  introduced  for  the  purpose  of  developing  the 
abiding  and  prevailing  sentiments  of  his  mind,  and  the  leading  traits 
of  his  character. 

In  the  first  letter  of  the  year,  January  5,  after  speaking  of  the 
extreme  severity  of  the  winter,  he  says,  "  I  have  every  thing  to 
make  me  warm  and  comfortable,  and  am  healthy  and  hearty ;  but 
this  cold  weather  stupefies  and  benumbs  my  intellect,  and  I  cannot 
get  on  well  with  my  headwork.  I  do  not  rise  very  early  ;  but  I 
am  up  till  midnight,  and  do  the  best  I  can  to  keep  up  with  the  time 
of  day.  I  am  growing  less  and  less  in  love  with  our  northern  win- 
ters, though  they  have  never  harmed  me,  and  I  have  a  perpetual 
summer  in  my  chamber,  where  the  anthracite  is  always  in  a  glow." 
But  here,  amid  these  expressions  of  self-content,  his  thoughts  are 
instantly  called  to  the  suffering  poor,  among  whom  he  took  his  daily 
rounds,  and  to  whose  comfort  and  sustenance  he  was  constantly 
ministering ;  and  he  proceeds :.  "  But  then  one  cannot  always  keep 
in  his  chamber,  or  in  his  own  house ;  and  if  he  suffers  as  he  ought 
with  those  whose  suffferings  he  sees,  his  mind  and  thoughts  are  filled 
with  dismal  imagery."  To  show  that  he  was  not  unfavorably 
affected  by  his  duties,  he  adds,  "  Three  services,  and  a  wedding, 
were  all  that  I  had  for  my  share  yesterday ;  and  I  felt,  after  I  had 
finished,  as  if  I  was  fresh  and  ready  for  as  many  more." 

But  there  is  another  portion  of  this  letter  which  may  be  alluded 
to  as  furnishing  a  keynote  to  a  series  of  transactions,  which,  how- 
ever annoying  and  vexatious  to  the  rector  of  Christ  Church,  served, 
at  the  same  time,  to  call  out  the  latent  energies  of  his  mind,  and  to 
show  the  firmness  and  decision  with  which  he  ever  stood  ready  to 
repel  any  temptation  to  a  departure  from  what  he  considered  the 


156  MEMOIR   OF   WILLIAM   CROSWELL,  [1835. 

line  of  conscientious  and  religious  duty.  After  remarking  pleasantly 
that  "  all  the  rest  of  the  week  was  a  kind  of  a  monotone,"  he  pro- 
ceeds, "  We  have  a  rapturous  tune,  however,  in  prospect,  to  he  rung 
from  all  the  chords  —  wnung,  I  should  have  said  —  and  the  great 
musician  at Church  is  to  lead  the  choir,  and  all  the  charac- 
ters in  Collins's  Ode  on  the  Passions  are  to  administer  at  turns. 
To   come    out    from   the   obscure    and  figurative,   the   Convocation 

assemble  at  brother 's  church  for  divine  services  and  sermons 

Wednesday,  Tluirsday,  and  Friday.  This  is  not,  perhaps,  so 
strange  ;  but  it  is  a  truth,  and  one  stranger  than  fiction,  that  I  am 
most  graciously  invited  to  attend.  Gramercy  for  your  goodness, 
gentle  sirs  !  I  have  not  concluded  what  order  I  shall  take ;  whether 
to  let  the  invitation  go  by  default,  or  to  give  the  why  and  the  where- 
fore. It  is  of  very  little  consequence  which.  After  the  marked 
exclusion  from  the  company  for  more  than  eighteen  months,  the 
burden  rests  with  them  to  explain  the  reason  of  this  change.  Jam 
unaltered  and  the  same,  and,  by  the  grace  of  God,  will  so  remain  ; 
for,  in  truth,  1  should  consult  my  inclination  as  little  as  my  self- 
respect  in  uniting  witli  their  assembly.  If  I  say  any  thing  to  them, 
it  will  be  in  the  spirit  of  Johnson  to  Chesterfield  :  '  The  notice 
which  you  have  been  pleased  to  take  of  me,  had  it  been  early,  Jiad 
been  kind.  But  it  has  been  delayed,  till  1  am  indifferent,  and  can- 
not enjoy  it ;  till  I  am  solitary,  and  cannot  impart  it ;  till  I  am 
known,  and  do  not  want  it.'"  Such  an  answer,  as  appears  from  a 
subsequent  letter,  was  drawn  up;  but  on  reflection,  he  felt  reluctant 
to  repel,  by  an  unkind  rebuke,  an  act  of  seeming  civility  ;  and  after 
consulting  some  of  his  clerical  friends,  who  had  also  now  been 
invited  for  the  first  time  to  attend  the  meeting,  it  was  concluded  to 
accept  the  invitation.  Accordingly,  he  says,  "  We  made  our  appear- 
ance on  the  first  evening.      The  following  day  found  me  there  also, 

and  at  evening  again  I  was  not  missing.     After  services,  Mr. 

approached  me,  said  the  Convocation  had  brought  a  certain  enter- 
prise to  a  certain  point,  and  would  like  to  have  Dr.  W.  and  myself 
meet,  and  consult  with  them,  the  next  morning.  Determined  not 
to  fail  in  receiving  any  distinct  overture,  and  make  myself  thereby 
obnoxious  to  the  charge  of  separating  myself  from  these  pious  men, 
I  agreed  accordingly.  We  found  them  next  day  in  solemn  con- 
clave.    Their  specimen  number   [of  a  periodical,  to  be  called  the 

Christian  Witness]    was  all    ready  to    be   issued  ;   and   Mr.  

asked  our  concurrence  and  countenance.  The  doctor  and  1  said, 
in  general,  that  any  periodical  which  went  to  set  forth  the  Gospel 
in  the  Church  would  have  our  patronage  and  approbation,  from 
whatever  quarter  it  issued.  But  I  was  carefid  to  add,  that  whether 
the  course  wliich  had  been  pursued  was  such  as  was  calculated  to 
conciliate  the  confidence  of  tlie  whole  body  of  our  clergy,  they  were 


183,5.]  CimiST   CHURCH.  157 

as  competent  to  decide  as  ourselves.  And  here  the  subject  was 
about  to  be  left ;  and  if  it  had,  the  result  would  have  boon  most 
unhappy  ;  the  object  obviously  being  to  force  tlie  thing  upon  us, 
and  stop  our  mouths  afterwards  with  the  pretence  that  an  opportu- 
nity had  been  afforded  us  of  expressing  our  opinion,  and  that  the 
project  had  received  our  assent.  At  tliis  juncture,  I  set  fire  to  a 
train,  which   produced    an   instantaneous   explosion,  by  asking   Mr. 

if  he  had   not  given    me    to    understand   that  my  exclusion 

from  the  Convocation  was  not  the  result  of  accident,  but  design. 
The  battle  being  thus  opened,  the  fire  was  hot  and  heavy  ;  and  the 
fear  of  man  passed  away  in  an  instant,  and  I  boldly  withstood  them 
to  the  face.  I  doubt  whether  they  ever  heard  the  truth  more  plainly 
spoken  ;  and  I  was  hajjpy  to  find  the  doctor  sustaining  me  manfully 
in  every  position.  .  .  .  After  delivering  our  message,  we  shook 
off  the  dust  from  our  feet,  and  departed."  With  the  exception  of 
an  occasional  remark,  nothing  more  is  said  during  the  year,  either 
in  his  diary  or  letters,  of  the  Christian  Witness.  It  was  considered 
as  the  organ  of  a  ])arty  or  clique  known  as  the  "Convocation,"  and 
never  secured  the  confidence  of  the  whole  body  of  the  clergy,  either 
in  or  out  of  the  diocese. 

In  a  letter  of  .January  19,  after  touching  in  a  pleasant  manner 
upon  various  topics,  he  thus  recurs,  in  his  habitual  spirit  of  humility 
and  devotion,  to  the  approaching  anniversary  of  his  ordination  : 
"Next  Sunday,  St.  Paul's  day,  is  the  anniversary,  as  you  are  aware, 
of  my  being  set  apart  to  the  work  of  the  ministry,  six  years  ago  ; 
an  interval  that  seems  like  a  dream,  like  a  tale  that  is  told,  hut  full 
of  the  momentous  items  upon  w  Inch  stands  our  account  for  eternity. 
I  would  renew  the  dedication  of  myself,  soul,  body,  and  spirit,  to 
this  service,  and  endeavor,  in  the  coming  hours  that  may  yet  be 
granted  me,  more  faithfully  to  redeem  the  time,  and  labor  to  perfect 
holiness.  Let  me  have  the  benefit  of  your  especial  prayer  on  the 
noon  of  that  day,  and  let  our  spirits  meet  before  the  throne  of 
grace  in  my  behalf.  ...  I  cannot  close  till  I  have  congratu- 
lated you  on  the  favorable  circumstances  and  great  encouragements 
with  which  your  labors  continue  to  be  blessed.  The  meridian  of 
your  usefulness  is  not  yet  passed,  as  I  hope,  nor  your  sun  on  the 
decline.  May  it  grow  more  and  n>ore  golden  towards  its  set,  and 
so  give  promise  of  the  glorious  dawn  to-morrow."  This  extract  is 
given  as  a  suitable  introduction  to  the  following  beautiful  stanzas, 
written  in  Christ  Church,  on  St.  Paul's  day,  at  noon,  and  sent  to 
the  Missionary,  for  publication. 


168  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1835. 


ST.  PAUL'S  DAY. 

"  At  midday,  O  king,  I  saw  in  the  way  a  liglit  from  heaven,  above  the  bright- 
ness of  the  sun,  shining  round  about  me  and  them  which  journeyed  with  me. 
Whereupon,  O  King  Agrippa,  I  was  not  disobedient  unto  the  heavenly  vision." 

How  swift  the  years  have  come  and  gone,  since,  on  this  blessed  day, 
A  victim  at  the  altar's  horn,  I  gave  myself  away ; 
And  streaming  through  the  honse  of  God  a  glory  seemed  to  shine, 
Invisible  to  other  eyes,  but  manifest  to  mine. 

It  was  not  in  his  terrors  clad,  nor  with  those  tokens  dire, 
The  rushing  of  the  whirlwind's  wing,  the  earthquake,  and  the  fire, 
Nor  yet  amid  the  blasting  blaze  that  makes  the  sunshine  dim, 
And  pales  the  ineifectual  beams  that  minister  to  Him. 

Serene  was  that  effulgent  noon,  and  gladdening  was  the  ray, 
Which  made  a  heavenly  vision  there  I  could  not  disobey  ; 
And  gentle  those  subduing  tones  which  soothed  and  tempered  all. 
As  with  the  holy  harmony  of  voices  still  and  small. 

0  father,  mother,  brethren,  "friends,  no  less  than  brethren  dear!" 
Who  promised,  at  this  solemn  hour,  to  be  in  spirit  near, 

Say,  is  it  not  your  influence  in  blended  prayer  I  feel. 

As  now  before  the  mercy  seat  from  many  shrines  we  kneel  ? 

1  would  my  heart  might  ever  thus  dissolve  with  fervent  heat, 
As  here,  "  fast  by  the  oracle,"  the  service  I  repeat ; 

That  even  in  my  inmost  soul  the  same  rejoicing  light 
Might  burn,  like  Zion's  altar  flame,  unquenchable  and  bright. 


From  the  following  extract,  under  date  of  January  26,  it  is 
evident  that  the  notoriety  which  he  had  already  attained,  as  a  writer 
of  poetry,  was  not  of  his  own  .seeking.  But  it  would  be  worse  than 
affectation  to  say  that  he  was  not  pleased  with  the  flattering  commen- 
dations which  he  received  from  time  to  time,  and  especially  when  they 
came  from  unexpected  quarters.  He  had  more  tlian  once,  as  is  well 
known,  resolved  to  tlirovv  aside  his  lyre,  and  stifle  his  passion  for 
verse.  But  every  new  stimulus  again  kindled  up  tlie  j)oetic  flame, 
and  it  was  never  wholly  extinguished,  but  continued  to  burn  brightly 
to  the  end  of  his  days.  The  Missionary,  after  its  establislmient  in 
New  Jersey,  became,  by  the  earnest  solicitations  of  his  friend  the 
bishop,  the  general  medium  of  his  communications.  "  If  I  am  vain 
of  any  of  my  gifts,  I  did  not  intend  that  any  body  should  know  it, 
and  have  tried  to  subdue  the  influence  of  all  my  weaknesses  by 
prayer  and   supplication.      I  am,  however,  sorely  tempted  to  think 


1835.1  CHRIST   CHURCH.  159 

more  highly  of  myself  than  I  oufflit  to  think,  when,  for  instance,  I 
receive  from  Athenian  missionaries,  in  tlie  heart  of  the  land  of 
classic  song,  a  letter  vvith  such  a  passage  as  this  :  '  Why  is  it  that 
I  no  longer  see  the  eft'usions  from  your  pen  in  such  of  the  religious 
periodicals  as  occasionally  reach  us  ?  Have  you  abandoned  your 
lyre,  to  devote  yourself  more  entirely  to  the  duties  of  the  pulpit  ? 
I  think  that  you  possess  so  much  of  the  poetic  vein,  that  you  may 
safely  indulge  in  it  from  time  to  time,  without  its  interfering  with 
more  serious  and  sacred  duties.  Nay,  when  the  subjects  are  appro- 
priate,—  as  yours  were  wont  to  be, — you  may  thus  at  once  both 
aid  and  grace  the  cause  of  our  blessed  Redeemer.  Our  language 
is  not  yet  rich  in  the  songs  of  Zion.  Even  in  Germany,  where  the 
language  has  been  for  a  much  shorter  time  cultivated  than  that  in 
which  Milton  and  Cowper  sang,  they  can  exhibit  a  much  larger  col- 
lection of  sacred  poesy  than  ourselves,  qualified  to  stand  the  test 
of  candid  criticism.  I  have  lately  seen  an  octavo  volume  of  Hymns, 
of  five  or  six  hundred  pages,  in  German,  selected  by  the  present 
Prussian  ambassador  at  Rome,  a  pious  man,  who  exerts  himself  for 
the  cause  of  the  gospel.  I  hope  to  see  poetry  enlisted  as  an  able 
auxiliary  in  the  diftusion  of  religious  feeling  in  our  favored  coun- 
try ;  and  I  feel  that  you  possess  a  talent  of  this  description  which 
ought  not  to  be  neglected.  Let  me  give  you  a  theme,  which  may 
aid  even  our  missions  here :  the  renovation  of  the  ancient  Church  of 
Greece.  It  will  indeed  be  a  blessed  and  glorious  day  when  she  shall 
resume  her  pristine  beauty  and  purity.  She  will  once  more  become 
a  means  of  diffusing  light,  the  light  of  gospel  truth,  to  nations  now 
sitting  in  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death.  She  would  be  admi- 
rably qualified  to  convey  the  humbling  and  purifying  lessons  of 
the  gospel  to  the  proud  and  sensual  Mahometan,  and  to  gain  victo- 
ries over  her  old  tyrant,  bloodless  indeed,  but  far  more  to  her  praise 
than  any  which  her  sons  have  hitherto  achieved,'  &c.  This  is  more 
than  I  expected  or  deserved  from  any  quarter,  and  least  of  all  from 
our  missionary  in  Greece.  I  have  long  had  my  mind  upon  the  very 
topic  to  which  he  alludes ;  and  a  letter  of  Fenelon,  written  while  he 
contemplated  a  mission  himself  to  those  parts,  which  I  was  reading 
a  few  days  since,  fired  me  with  enthusiasm  to  set  about  it." 

His  letters  of  the  month  of  February  partake  of  the  general 
character  of  all  his  correspondence.  Like  other  studious  men,  he 
had  his  alternations  of  elevated  and  depressed  spirits,  and  these  were 
transfused  into  his  familiar  communications  with  his  friends.  In  the 
same  letter,  he  would  speak  with  grateful  animation  of  the  amazing 
amount  of  labor  which  he  had  been  enabled,  by  the  help  of  God, 
to  accomplish,  and  then  turn  despondingly  to  the  frequent  recur- 
rence of  headache  and  vertigo,  which  but  too  often  followed  liis 
exertions.     His  letters,  as  well  as  many  of  his  sermons,  and  much 


160  MEMOIR    OF  WILLIAM   CROSWTILL.  [1835. 

of  his  poetry,  were  written  chiefly  at  night  and  very  early  in  the 
morning,  while  his  days  were  consumed  with  calls  at  home,  in 
visits  among  his  parishioners,  —  especially  the  sick,  needy,  and 
afflicted,  —  and  with  responses  to  the  constant  invitations  of  hospi- 
tality and  kindness.  Reflecting  upon  these  multifarious  demands 
upon  his  time  and  his  bodily  and  mental  powers,  it  is  not  strange 
that  he  should  sometimes  feel  as  if  his  burden  were  greater  than 
he  could  sustain.  And,  at  such  times,  it  is  not  surprising  that 
he  should  sometimes  feelingly  adopt  the  sentiment  of  his  favorite 
poet.  "I  long  more  and  more,"  he  says,  "for  some  snug  retire- 
ment, where  from  the  loopholes  of  retreat  I  may  peep  at  the  world, 
see  the  great  Babel,  and  not  feel  its  stir."  And,  with  the  devout 
and  contemplative  habits  of  his  mind,  it  might  be  expected  that  few 
letters  would  pass  from  his  hands  without  some  serious  reflections. 
For  example,  such  sentiments  as  these  are  constantly  recurring. 
Speaking  of  the  death  of  a  young  lady  whom  he  had  known  when 
a  child,  and  with  whose  family  he  had  been  intimately  associated, 
he  says,  "  The  going  out  of  the  lights  of  that  pleasant  household, 
one  after  another,  is  among  the  associations  which  throw  a  melan- 
choly shadow  over  the  scenes  of  my  earlier  years.  When  I  count 
up  the  names  of  those  of  our  own  family  connections  and  familiar 
friends,  who,  though  '  not  dead,'  are  '  gone  before,'  it  seems  as  if 
the  majority,  with  whom  I  commenced  the  career  of  life,  are 
already  on  the  other  side  of  the  grave.  May  I  make  a  profita- 
ble use  of  the  solemn  consideration,  and  so  number  my  own  days 
that  remain  that  I  may  apply  my  heart  unto  wisdom."  He  pro- 
ceeds to  speak  thus,  in  a  strain  of  filial  confidence  :  "  I  often  think 
that  I  can  well  remember  when  you  were  but  a  few  years  older 
than  I  am  now,  and  when  I  looked  up  to  you  as  a  man  of  many 
days,  and  what  an  infinite  interval  it  seemed  in  prospect  before  I 
should  arrive  at  the  same  age.  But  our  years  are  brought  to  an 
end,  like  a  tale  that  is  told  ;  and  I  look  back  with  astonishment  and 
wonder  at  this  period,  uj)on  all  that  is  past ;  so  much  of  life  elapsed 
like  a  dream,  and  so  little  accomplished.  Time  has  not  brought 
with  it  the  maturity  of  mind  upon  which  I  had  reckoned  ;  and 
though  a  man  in  years,  I  am  still  a  boy  at  heart.  This,  however, 
is  doubtless  as  it  should  be.  Whatever  advances  we  may  make 
intellectually,  in  other  respects,  such  as  disposition,  dependence,  and 
docility,  we  cannot  safely  allow  one  particle  of  our  childlike  traits 
of  character  to  wear  oft"  and  be  outgrown,  for  '  of  such  is  the  king- 
dom of  heaven.'  Here  is  comfort,  when  perhaps  I  might  otherwise 
have  reproached  myself  with  weakness."  But  while  such  senti- 
ments are  transcribed,  the  impression  ought  not  to  be  conveyed 
that  he  was  fond  of  cherishing  sad  and  gloomy  thoughts.  He  was 
among  the  most  cheerful  of  men  ;  and  he  was  capable  of  turning 
away  from   the   most   melancholy   musings  to    a   style   of  vivacity 


1835.]  CmilST   CIIURCH.  161 

sufficient  to  show  tliat  liis  bosom  was  a  fountain  of  sweet  serenity 
and  joy,  and  that  he  coukl  at  all  times,  by  his  genial  playfulness, 
light  up  a  smile  upon  the  face  of  his  correspondents  and  associates. 
On  the  verv  page  where  he  could  melt  the  heart  by  the  tenderest 
allusions,  he  could  speak  with  unaffiscted  modesty  of  a  "  silly  Valen- 
tine," which  he  had  sent  for  publication  in  the  Albany  Argus.  Of 
the  Valentine  itself  the  reader  must  judge  whether  he  has  not  him- 
self spoken  too  lightly. 

VALENTINE. 

Again  the  "  fated  hours  "  have  come, 

As  holy  legends  tell, 
When  Valentine  in  martyrdom 

A  blessed  victim  fell ; 
And  doubt  thou  not,  one  wish  of  thine, 

O  gentle  maid  I  would  make, 
This  day,  thy  chosen  Valentine, 

A  martyr  for  thy  sake. 

By  ice  and  snow  though  severed  wide. 

Nought  else,  O  maiden  true ! 
Of  cold  or  distance  shall  divide 

Between  myself  and  you  ; 
Though  many  a  bond  in  sunder  parts. 

Snapped  by  this  frosty  weather, 
It  shall  but  keep  two  loving  hearts 

Still  closer  bound  together.  W. 

St.  Valentine's  Eve,  February  13,  1835. 


There  is  an  anecdote  connected  with  the  publication  of  this  Val- 
entine in  the  Albany  Argus,  which  attorded  some  amusement  at  the 
time,  and  which  need  not  be  suppressed.  A  lady,  or  one  affecting 
the  handwriting  of  a  lady,  imputing  the  authorship  to  a  gallant 
bachelor  in  the  State  legislature,  whose  initial  was  VV.,  and  who  was 
known  to  have  some  genius  for  versemaking,  addressed  to  him,  on 
the  succeeding  day,  the  following  response  :  — 


A  VALENTINE   FOR   «W." 

Saint  Valentine's  glorious  death 

Had,  doubtless,  its  struggles  and  pains, 

Yet  who  would  not  give  up  her  breath. 
To  live  evermore  in  your  strains  ? 
21 


162  MEMOm   OF  WILLIAM    CROSAVELL.  [1835. 

Sweet  bard !  may  the  gods  keep  your  vows, 
Nor  coldness  nor  distance  long  trouble  you  ; 

But  O,  should  you  sigh  for  a  spouse, 
Ten  thousand  would  hasten  to  "  W." 

Then  why  o'er  the  snow  banks  go  wooing, 

In  strains  little  less  than  divine, 
When,  near  you,  your  muse  is  subduing 

The  heart  of  a  true 

Vale.vtine  ? 


The  following  lines  were  addressed  to  the  Rev.  Dr.  Thomas  W. 
CoiT,  on  occasion  of  his  election  to  the  presidency  of  Transylvania 
University,  Kentucky. 


TO   THE  REY.  DR.  COIT. 

With  hope  and  courage  unrepressed. 

Go,  follow  where  the  orb  of  day 
And  Empire's  Star,  both  tending  west, 

Have  pointed  out  thy  brightening  way ; 
•And  from  our  dwellings  by  the  sea 

Beyond  the  mountain  barriers  bear 
The  bonds  which  sacred  sympathy 

Hath  sanctified  by  many  a  prayer. 

And  when  thy  steps  are  safely  led 

By  mighty  marge  of  rivers  wide. 
Which,  like  an  earth-born  giant,  spread  * 

Their  thirsty  arms  on  every  side, 
O,  let  their  waters,  as  they  glide 

Resistless  on,  thine  emblem  be  — 
A  stream  of  many  thousand  tides 

Against  the  Truth's  great  enemy.  W.  C. 

March  1,  1835. 


On  the  3d  of  March  he  had  a  severe  attack  of  sickness,  and 
was  compelled,  after  an  ineffectual  attempt  to  throw  off  the  disease 
by  simple  remedies,  to  call  in  the  aid  of  a  physician.  He  passed 
through  the  usual  treatment,  and  was  so  far  relieved  within  a  short 
time  as  to  be  able  again  to  resume  the  pen,  and  convey  to  his  father 


'  And  Trent,  like  an  earth-born  giant,  spreads 
His  thirsty  arms  along  th'  indented  meads." 

Milton,  Vacation  Exercise. 


1835.]  CHEIST  CHURCH.  163 

a  daily  bulletin  of  his  condition.     Tliese  brief  notes  are  fair  expo- 
nents of  the  remarkable  buoyancy  of  his  spirits,  and  of  his  cheerful- 
ness and  contentment,  under  tiie  hand  of  providential  chastisement. 
In  his  letter  of  March  8,  he  says,  "  As  I  have  never  concealed  any 
thing-  from  you  with  regard  to  my  health,  so  I  will  not  do  so  now." 
Afte'i-   describing  the  nature  of  the   attack,  and   its  treatment,  he 
adds,  "  It  has  left  me  rather  weak,  though  I  am  entirely  free  from 
all  disease,  and  perform   almost  every  function  but  that  of  eating 
and  writing,  with  regard  to  which  I   am  obliged  to  keep  Lent  very 
strictly,  and  practise  almost  total  abstinence.     I  do  not  say  these 
things  to  alarm,  but  to  account  for  my  brevity.     I  beg  you  will   not 
give   yourselves  any  uneasiness  on  account  of  it.      I   expect  to  be 
about,  out  of  doors,  in  a  day  or  two,  and  shall  take  the  first  oppor- 
tunity of  setting  my  face  homeward.     .     .     .     You  shall  have  a 
bulletin  from  me  daily,  keeping  you  informed  of  the  true  state  of 
the  case."     Accordingly,  on  the  day  following,  affecting  the  usual 
style  of  such  despatches,  and  speaking  in  the  third  person,  he  gives 
assurances   of   lus  improvement,  and    gratefully  acknowledges  the 
kindness  and  attention,  not  only  of  his  excellent  hostess,  but  also 
of  the  "  troops  of  friends  "  by  whom  he  was  surrounded,  and  who 
were   assiduous   in   their  efforts  to   minister   to    his  comfort.     He 
hopes,  by  the  help  of  God,  to  give  a  still  more  favorable  report  the 
next  day,  and  speaks  of  his  mind  as  "  full  and  alive  with  all  manner 
of  ideas  and  imagery,  like  a  quiver  full  of  arrows ;  but,"  he  says, 
he   » has  not  yet  quite   strength  to  draw  the  bow  that  shall  send 
them."     On  the  10th,  after  speaking  pleasantly  of  the  parting  call 
of  his  physician,  of  his  continued  improvement,  and  especially  of 
the  enjoyment  drawn  from  his  books,  he  adds,  "  As  a  thankoffering 
to  Him  who  has  raised  me  from  the  threatenings  of  disease,  I  have 
subscribed  a  hundred  dollars  for  the  Seabury  professorship,  [in  the 
College,  now  Trinity,  at  Hartford.]      I  have   drawn,  as  usual,  upon 
the  Bank  of  Faith,  and  trust,  that,  by  self-denial  and  frugality  on  my 
part,  it  will  not  fail  me.      Such  expenditures  as  this  have  never  yet 
impoverished  me,  but  have   been   attended  with  a  literal  and  liberal 
recompense,  in  some  way  upon  which  I  had  not  counted.      As  done 
with  an  eye  to  the   glory  of  God,  I   hope  it  will  not  perish  among 
the  works  burnt  up."      He  thus  closes  his  daily  reports ;  and  his 
next  letter  is  dated  on  Sunday  evening,  March  15,  in  which  he  says, 
"  The  fine  weather  of  the  last  two  or  three  days  has  helped   me 
along  exceedingly.     Yesterday  I   rode   out,  for  the  first  time,  in  a 
close  carriage,  as  far  as  Roxbury.     To-day  I  felt  so  far  restored  to 
health  of  body,  vigor  of  mind,  and  cheerfulness  of  spirit,  that  I  was 
able  to   go  to  the  house  of  God,  to  ofter  him  an  oblation  with  great 
gladness,  and  to  bless  his  holy  name  for  all  his   goodness  towards 
me,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Savior." 

There  are  in  his  correspondence,  at  this  period,  several  allusions 


164  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM    CROSWELL.  [1835. 

to  a  probable  change  of  his  pastoral  relations.  In  one  of  his  let- 
ters, written  during;  his  sickness,  he  expresses  his  intention,  after  his 
recovery,  of  consulting  the  wardens  of  his  church  on  the  expediency 
of  resigning  his  charge  at  Easter,  "  simply,"  he  says,  "  because  I 
think  somebody  else  would  do  better  here,  and  I  should  do  better 
somewhere  else."  Within  a  few  days,  however,  he  wrote  to  this 
effect  :  "  My  friends  have  shown  me  marvellous  great  kindness 
during  my  illness,  and  I  shall  find  it  harder  than  ever  to  separate 
the  bond  which  binds  us  together."  Subsequently  he  writes,  "  I 
have  not  had  much  conversation  on  the  subject  of  my  resignation. 
I  mentioned  it  to  my  junior  warden;  but  he  begged  me  to  defer  its 
consideration  till  I  had  quite  recovered,  and  desired  me  to  say  noth- 
ing to  his  coadjutor  unless  my  mind  was  unalterably  made  up." 
After  this,  the  subject  appears  to  have  been  dropped  for  a  time ; 
and  as  his  proposed  journey  homeward  was  deferred,  princi])ally  on 
account  of  the  unsettled  state  of  the  weather,  he  began  gradually 
to  resume  his  public  services.  On  the  first  Sunday  of  April,  he  was 
able  to  administer  the  connnunion  in  the  morning,  and  to  preach 
in  the  afternoon,  besides  performing  some  other  official  duties. 

In  a  letter  of  the  4th  of  May,  after  congratulating  his  father  on 
the  pleasant  and  harmonious  settlement  of  an  assistant,  which  had 
been  effected  in  his  parish  at  New  Haven,  he  proceeds :  "  Every 
thing  connected  with  our  parish  looks  very  promisingly  at  present, 
and  I  hope  the  whole  diocese  will  soon  wear  a  more  cheerful  aspect. 
The  bishop  has  called  us  together  on  Wednesday,  to  see  if  any  thing 
can  be  proposed  to  enlarge  the  Convocation,  so  as  to  include  us 
all,  and  promote  a  better  understanding.  We  shall  be  int'lined  to 
go  a  great  way  for  the  sake  of  peace  ;  and  if  our  propositions  are 
well  received,  there  will  be  no  difficulty.  Most  of  the  members  of 
the  Convocation  would  regard  such  a  union  favorably."  On  the 
11th  he  gives  an  account  of  this  meeting,  a  portion  of  which  is 
transcribed  as  a  perfectly  satisfactory  vindication  of  his  own  posi- 
tion. "Preliminary  to  it,"  he  says,  "the  bishop  called  us  together, 
—  all,  without  exception,  though  but  ?e\\  answered  the  summons, — 
to  see  if  any  thing  could  be  done  to  promote  harmony.  A  com- 
mittee was  chosen  to  report  measures ;  I  was  one ;  and  we  had 
half  an  hour  to  report  in.  I  told  them  that  consistency  left  me  but 
one  course  to  pursue,  but  that  I  would  oppose  no  obstacle  to  any 
proposition  which  united  the  majority."  After  a  few  sharp  passages 
between  the  different  members  of  the  committee,  which  it  is  unne- 
cessary to  detail,  it  was  proposed  to  report,  that,  "  if  the  bishoj)  was 
desirous  that  his  clergy  should  unite  in  the  Convocation,  and  would 
distinctly  express  his  desires,  it  should  be  made  a  ground  of  rec- 
ommendation to  each  of  them  to  join  the  Convocation,  if  he  consci- 
entiously could.  The  report  was  accepted.  The  next  day  we  were 
admitted  to  the  business  meetings,  and  heard  the  constitution  and 


1835.]  CHRIST   CHURCH.  165 

by-laws   read.     Dr.s.  and  saw  their   way  clear  to 

give  in  their  adhesion  ;  but  I  declined.  My  objections  are  such  as 
have  always  operated  so  strongly  on  my  mind  — its  exclusiveness, 
its  interference  by  its  missionary  plans  with  the  episcopal  prero<ra- 
tives,  and  placing  the  interests  of  tlie  Church  at  the  mercy  of  a 
presbytery,  the  tithe  of  salary  which  it  levies  upon  every  member, 
and  the  irregularities  which  it  countenances,  if  it  does  not  enforce. 
Many  of  the  most  exceptionable  features  will  doubtless  undergo 
considerable  modification,  and  such  men  as  my  two  most  excellent 
friends  will  exert  a  wholesome  and  salutary  influence  upon  the 
majority  of  the  members.  ...  I  hope  the  experiment  may 
be  happy  for  all  parties  concerned.  I  have  no  objection  to  meet 
the  brethren,  at  convenient  seasons,  even  though  with  some  of  them 
I  can  have  no  sympathy  or  kindredness  of  feeling." 

May  20,  having  made  arrangements  for  an  absence  of  a  month 
from  his  cure,  he  proceeded  by  railroad  and  stage  to  Hartford.  He 
arrived  at  the  house  of  his  friend  Dr.  Sumner  in  the  evening,  and 
gladly  accepted  his  hospitalities  until  the  22d,  when  he  passed  on  to 
New  Haven.  The  following  extract  of  a  letter,  addressed  to  his 
esteemed  friends  at  Hartford  on  this  occasion,  serves  to  show  with 
what  chastened  feelings  he  revisited  the  scenes  of  his  childhood  : 
"  New  Haven  never  looked  so  charmingly  to  my  unpractised  eye  ; 
but  it  is  peopled  by  such  an  altered  population,  so  many  of  the  old 
familiar  faces  have  vanished,  persons  and  places  have  so  changed, 
and  I  find  the  names  of  so  large  a  proportion  of  the  companions 
of  my  childhood  and  youth  on  the  stones  in  the  burial  ground,  that 
I  revisit  and  review  its  scenes  with  a  kind  of  melancholy  and  pain- 
ful interest ;  a  sort  of  homesick  feeling  comes  over  me,  and  I  realize 
that  we  have  indeed  here  no  continuing  city,  that  we  are  strangers 
and  })ilgrims  on  earth.  How  happy  for  us,  that,  like  the  patriarch 
in  a  strange  country,  we  can,  by  faith,  look  forward  to  a  city  that 
hath  foundations,  whose  builder  and  maker  is  God  !  " 

Though  exempted  for  a  short  space  from  the  cares  of  his  own 
parish,  he  found  but  little  respite  from  his  labors,  during  this  visit. 
He  participated  in  the  services  at  Trinity  Church  and  St.  Paul's 
Chapel  on  the  first  Sunday  after  his  arrival  ;  and,  on  the  following 
Sunday,  he  preached  three  times  in  the  church  at  North  Haven,  being 
assisted  in  the  services  by  the  incumbent,  his  highly-valued  friend  and 
brother,  the  Rev.  C.  W.  Bradley.  He  had  been  in  daily  expectation 
of  the  arrival  of  his  brother  Sherman  from  Albany ;  but  this  was 
unfortunately  delayed  until  the  4th  of  .lune,  only  two  days  before 
his  engagements  compelled  him  to  leave  for  New  York.  From  this 
point  he  addressed  a  letter  to  his  father,  giving  a  pleasant  account 
of  his  passage,  of  bis  travelling  companions,  and  of  his  further  pro- 
ceedings. "  Mine  host  of  the  Atlantic,"  he  says,  "  gave  me,  at  sight, 
the  freedom  of  the  house,  and,  at  my  request,  sent  me  into  the 


166  MEMOIR   OF  WILLI.V^I   CROSTV^LL  [1835. 

identical  dormitory  which  Sherman  had  occupied.  I  found  his 
mirror  waiting  for  liini  on  the  stove,  but  do  not  see  his  face  in  it, 
though  I  have  looked  several  times."  The  day  after  his  arrival, 
being  Whitsunday,  he  attended  service,  and  joined  in  celebrating  the 
holy  communion  at  old  Trinity,  (for  it  was  before  the  rebuilding  of 
this  edifice;)  a  church,  he  says,  which  "may  be  styled  by  so  many 
of  us,  like  .Terusalem  of  old,  the  mother  of  us  all.  It  is  a  solemn 
and  impressive  place  of  worship,  and  I  enjoyed  the  services  very 
much."  In  the  afternoon  he  attended  the  services  at  St.  Thomas's 
Church.  "According  to  his  annual  practice.  Dr.  Hawks  had  a 
great  christening.  It  was  a  most  interesting  spectacle,  and  reminded 
me  more  of  St.  Peter  and  the  three  thousand,  on  the  day  of  Pente- 
cost, than  any  thing  I  have  ever  seen.  There  were  upwards  of 
ninety  in  all,  most  of  them  old  enough  to  be  ranged  in  two  rows 
round  the  chancel,  and  to  receive  the  sacrament,  without  being  taken 
into  the  arms.     Some  twelve  were  infants." 

On  Monday,  June  8,  he  proceeded  by  boat  to  Burlington,  where, 
with  the  exception  of  two  days  spent  in  Philadelphia,  he  enjoyed 
the  welcome  and  delightful  hospitalities  of  the  rectory  at  Riverside, 
and  the  daily  morning  and  evening  services  of  the  church.  On 
Trinity  Sunday  he  participated  in  three  services,  preaching  in  St. 
Mary's  Church,  Burlington,  morning  and  evening,  and  at  Mount 
Holly  in  the  afternoon.  On  Monday,  the  loth,  he  returned  to  New 
York,  and  wrote  to  his  father  stating  his  plans  for  the  remainder  of 
the  week.  His  first  letter  after  his  return,  Monday,  June  22,  shows 
how  far  this  plan  was  carried  out :  "  I  changed  one  part  of  my  plan 
once  more,  after  I  got  to  Pittsfield,  in  accommodation  to  circum- 
stances, and  found  myself  here  on  Saturday,  by  a  route  which  remind- 
ed me  of  the  title  of  the  oft-read  article  of  Johnson's  in  the  English 
Reader,  '  Schemes  of  life  often  illusory.'  The  ride  from  Hudson 
carried  us  through  such  a  charming  and  magnificent  scenery  as  quite 
reconciled  me  to  the  stage  coach.  All  our  company,  with  a  single 
exception,  by  a  singular  coincidence,  happened  to  be  Bostonians, 
who  had  casually  met,  for  the  first  time  since  leaving  home,  on 
board  the  steamboat.  .  .  .  The  glory  of  Lebanon  was  laid 
open  before  us,  as  we  proceeded,  and  a  surpassing  glory  it  was. 
From  the  heights  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  hotel  at  the  mineral 
springs,  we  could,  like  Moses,  view  the  landscape  o'er,  and  see  that 
goodly  mountain  and  Lebanon.  From  the  top  of  the  richly-wooded 
barrier  which  separates,  as  it  were,  Massachusetts  from  New  York, 
you  command  a  lovely  prospect  of  the  land  between,  even  to  the 
Catskills,  whose  summit,  at  the  distance  of  forty  miles,  seem  to  be 
within  an  easy  ride  of  half  an  hour."  He  reached  Pittsfield  about 
eight,  and  repaired  at  once  to  the  church,  where  he  heard  a  sermon 
from  the  Rev.  Dr.  Milnor.  "  The  Convention,"  he  says,  "  was 
fully  attended ;   and  the   exercises  connected  with  it,  as   far  as  I 


183.3.]  CHRIST   CHURCH.  167 

observed,  were  regular  and  interesting.  .  .  .  Most  inconsist- 
ently,    introduced   a   resolution  recommending  the   Witness 

in   the    most   unqualified   terms,   and  ,  still  stranger  to  say, 

seconded  it ;  and,  most  wonderful  of  all,  I  was  the  only  man  that 
dared  to  vote  in  the  negative.  Some  infatuation  surely  blinds  us  at 
times,  we  know  not  how ;  for  truer  hearted  men  than  these,  I  am 
sure,  there  are  not.  Hospitality  was  practised  on  a  most  liberal 
scale  at  Pittsfield,  and  we  all  left  much  delighted.  A  party  of  us 
set  out  at  five  o'clock  on  Friday  morning,  passed  through  North- 
ampton, and  arrived  here,  via  railroad,  at  ten  on  Saturday  morning. 
I  preached  thrice  yesterday,  and  baptized.  I  find  the  church  in 
complete  order,  and  a  beautiful  sight  to  see." 

With  the  exception  of  one  or  two  strokes  of  pleasantry,  nothing 
is  found  to  extract  from  his  correspondence  of  July ;  and  even  these 
cannot  be  transcribed  without  an  apology,  inasmuch  as  he  himself 
stigmatizes  them  as  "  flummery."  July  6,  he  writes,  "  I  perceive, 
by  the  Herald,  that  somebody  in  New  Haven  is  pretending  to  con- 
flagrate Moscow  in  jest,  and  seems  likely  to  set  your  little  town  on 
fire  in  real  earnest.  However  imposing  it  may  be,  you  may  rest 
assured  that  the  genuine  imposition  is  here.  Moscow  is  burnt  every 
night  at  Concert  Hall;  and  though  thousands  have  thronged  to  see 
the  great  sigiit,  still  it  is  not  consumed.  Maelzel  himself  is  the 
incendiary,  and  the  only  one  that  is  allowed  to  go  at  large,  without 
being  tried  for  his  life,  and  is  well  paid  for  the  business  besides." 
He  authorizes  his  brother  to  send  this  to  the  paper,  as  an  "  extract 
from  a  letter,"  provided  always  that  he  can  get  any  one  to  take  the 
responsibility.  "  A  burnt  child,"  he  says,  "  dreads  the  fire,  and 
I  do  not  care  to  be  considered  as  an  inditer  of  inflammatory 
paragraphs." 

In  another  letter,  speaking  of  some  writer  who  had  maliciously 
styled  Episcopalians  "  nothingarians,"  he  retorts,  that  the  poor 
slanderer  ought  to  have  known  that  the  Church  is  indeed  "  nothing- 
Arian:' 

But  the  occasions  for  the  indulgence  of  this  playful  humor  were 
only  the  little  flickerings  of  sunlight  amid  the  impending  clouds  of 
thick  darkness.  His  feelings  were  always  open  to  the  alternations 
of  grief  and  gladness,  as,  in  the  allotments  of  Providence,  they 
were  severally  brought  to  bear  on  his  sensitive  heart ;  and  while  it 
was  his  delight  to  rejoice  with  the  joyful,  he  was  equally  ready  to 
mingle  his  tears  and  sympathies  with  those  who  wept.  Another 
month  had  scarcely  begun,  before  he  was  called  to  a  trial,  the  pe- 
culiar severity  of  which  his  own  letters  attest.  Tuesday,  August  4, 
he  writes  to  his  father,  "  Accept  a  brief  line  to-day,  which  ought  to 
have  been  sent  you  yesterday,  just  to  assure  you  that  I  am  well, 
though  in  deep  affliction.  We  were  bereaved,  on  Sunday  night,  of 
our  junior  warden,  (Frederick  Clark,)  an  inestimable  young  man, 


168  MEMOIR  OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1835. 

and  a  worthy  son  of  a  worthy  father ;  and  our  parish  is  all  sunk  in 
sorrow.  We  have  every  consolation  which  is  afforded  by  the  con- 
sideration, that  the  deceased  was  a  humble  and  exemplary  disciple 
of  Jesus,  and  died  the  death  of  a  righteous  man.  I  was  with  him 
much  during  his  illness ;  and  being  called  to  bestow  such  services 
as  might  best  afford  comfort  to  his  wife  and  sisters  in  their  over- 
whelming distress,  and  to  minister  at  the  funeral,  which  took  place 
yesterday,  you  will  not  wonder  that  my  hands  and  heart  are  full, 
and  will  readily  excuse  my  neglect  of  this  sacred  duty  of  writing. 
I  will  write  to  you  again,  at  my  first  leisure,  at  greater  length. 
Meanwhile,  pray  for  me,  that  this  dispensation  may  be  sanctified  to 
us,  and  that  we  may  bow  in  acquiescence  to  the  divine  deaUngs, 
however  inscrutable." 

August  5.  "  I  was  quite  unnerved  and  unmanned  by  the  melan- 
choly scenes  through  which  I  have  of  late  been  called  to  pass,  when 
I  wrote  you  last.  I  have  since  become  composed  and  calm,  and  am 
refreshed  and  recruited  by  nature's  best  restorative,  sleep,  and  by 
such  supports,  I  trust,  as  can  be  obtained  only  from  a  heavenly 
source.  Mr.  Clark's  sudden  and  untimely  death  is  a  great  blow 
to  me.  He  was,  in  truth,  my  right-hand  man,  my  '  fidus  Achates,' 
and  I  feel,  as  rector  of  the  church,  as  if  shorn  of  half  my  strength. 
His  loss  to  his  poor  wife  and  sisters  is  beyond  expression ;  but  they 
have  been  too  thoroughly  disciplined  in  the  school  of  adversity,  to 
be  otherwise  than  submissive  and  resigned.  They  know  that  the 
judgments  of  the  Lord  are  right,  and  that  of  very  faithfulness  he 
has  caused  them  to  be  troubled.  May  He,  who  chastens  us  for  our 
profit,  make  us  also  partakers  of  His  holiness ;  and  though  it  seem- 
eth  not  to  be  joyous,  but  grievous,  may  it  yield  the  peaceable  fruits 
of  righteousness  to  them  who  are  exercised  thereby."  He  expresses 
in  tliis  letter  his  strong  desire  and  hope  of  being  able  to  go  to  the 
General  Convention,  which  was  soon  to  meet  in  Philadelphia  ;  and 
after  detailing  the  great  amount  and  variety  of  duties,  which,  on 
Sunday,  immediately  preceded  his  attendance  on  the  death  bed  of 
Mr.  Clark,  and  giving  some  further  particulars  of  his  last  hours, 
he  concludes  :  "  Excuse  me  for  dwelling  so  much  on  this  topic.  It 
is  uppermost  in  my  mind,  and  should  be.  Otherwise  it  cannot  be 
improved.  May  it  be  as  profitably,  as  it  is  deeply,  felt  by  us  all.  I 
know  you  will  remember  me  at  those  times  when  remembrance  is 
of  most  avail,  at  your  seasons  of  prayer.  Be  assured  that  I  con- 
tinue to  enjoy  very  good  health,  and  tliat  you  shall  not  be  deceived 
in  this  respect  for  a  moment.  I  was  indisposed,  as  might  be  ex- 
pected, but  not  seriously,  on  Monday,  but  have  had  time  to  recover 
myself,  and  feel  as  well,  though  not  quite  as  strong,  to-day,  as 
usual." 

August  6.  "According  to  promise,  I  send  you  another  line 
to-day,  though  I  have  nothing  in   particular  to  add  to  the  commuui- 


1835.1  CHRIST   CHURCH.  169 

cations  which  have  preceded  it.  I  do  so  the  more  cheerfully,  how- 
ever, as  my  mind  has  hegim  to  resume  its  wonted  composure,  and 
I  am  also  quite  recruited  in  bodily  strenp^th.  I  hope  the  tenor  of 
my  other  letters  has  not  been  calculated  to  disturb  or  agitate  you  ; 
that  they  have  not  excited  the  very  apprehensions  which  they  were 
intended  to  allay.  I  trust  this  will  be  sufficient  to  put  them  to  rest, 
if  such  be  the  case ;  and  if  my  foreknowledge  was  as  decided  as 
my  wishes,  I  should  not  lose  an  opportunity  of  convincing  you  of 
their  groundlessness,  by  exhibiting  myself  in  person  before  you  take 
your  departure  for  the  General  Convention.  I  entertain  strong 
hopes  that  I  shall  be  able  to  accompany  you,  but  do  not  like  to  hold 
out  any  expectation  that  I  may  not  fulfil.  As  the  time  draws  nearer, 
I  can  tell  better.  Our  afflicted  friends,  of  whom  I  spoke,  are  as 
comfortable  as  can  be  expected ;  and  the  parish,  and  city  also,  what- 
ever rumors  there  may  be  to  the  contrary,  continue  very  healthy. 
No  new  cases  of  the  fever,  to  which  Mr.  Clark  and  several  of  the 
neighboring  merchants   fell  victims,  have  since  occurred." 

In  his  next  communication,  Monday,  August  10,  he  says,  "  I 
now  feel  quite  like  myself  again,  and  with  less  of  weariness  than 
usually  falls  to  my  lot  on  Monday.  I  reserved  myself  as  much 
as  I  could  from  excitement  during  the  week,  but  was  obliged  to 
prepare  resolutions  of  condolence  in  connection  with  my  funeral 
sermon.  I  accomplished  both,  however,  and  got  through  very  com- 
fortably and  composedly,  being  able  to  command  myself  better  than 
usual  on  such  occasions." 

On  the  following  Thursday,  August  13,  he  writes  that  he  had 
made  up  his  mind,  Providence  permitting,  to  proceed  to  New  York 
in  the  ensuing  week,  to  meet  his  father,  and  accompany  him  to  the 
General  Convention. 

Agreeably  to  this  arrangement,  he  left  Boston  on  Monday  the 
17th,  and  proceeded,  by  the  way  of  Providence,  New  York,  and 
Burlington,  to  Philadelpliia.  As  he  had  restricted  himself  to  a  short 
absence  from  his  parish,  he  made  the  most  of  his  time,  which  was 
chiefly  spent  in  Philadelphia,  affording  him  an  opportunity  to  attend 
the  sittings  of  the  General  Convention,  the  meetings  of  the  Mis- 
sionary Society,  and  many  of  the  public  services  of  the  Chuich, 
besides  holding  much  pleasant  intercourse  with  his  brethren  and 
friends,  and  visiting  most  of  the  places  of  public  interest.  Some 
two  or  three  days,  however,  including  Sunday,  were  passed  at  Bur- 
lington, where  he  divided  the  services  of  the  day  with  his  father. 
On  Friday  he  started  on  liis  homeward  journey,  taking  the  san)e 
route  by  which  he  had  come,  and  arrived  at  Boston,  in  time  to 
resinne  his  duties  in  his  own  church,  on  Sunday  the  30th,  officiating 
in  three  entire  services.  On  the  following  Tuesday,  September  1, 
he  wrote  to  his  mother,  apologizing  for  passing  by  New  Haven  on 
this  occasion,  and  promising,  after  a  few  weeks,  to  repay  the  neglect 
22 


170  JkCEMOm   OF  AVILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1835. 

"  with  interest."  "  I  obtained  leave  of  absence,"  he  says,  "  only  for 
a  single  Sunday  ;  and  my  parish  were  coiniting  on  my  return  with 
as  much  certainty  as  that  of  the  Lord's  day.  My  character,  as  a 
man  to  be  depended  upon,  was  therefore  at  stake  ;  and  by  redeem- 
ing it  so  satisfactorily,  I  shall  be  the  bolder  to  treat  resolution 
whenever  occasion  requires."  He  speaks  in  grateful  terms  of  the 
enjoyment  which  the  excursion  had  afforded  him,  and  of  the  satis- 
factory state  of  things  on  his  return.  But  he  seems  to  apprehend 
that  some  change  may  be  necessary,  in  his  domestic,  as  well  as  his 
pastoral  relations  ;  and  he  again  thus  feelingly  recurs  to  the  recent 
severe  affliction  in  his  parish :  "  In  the  death  of  Mr.  Clark,  a  pillar 
has  been  struck  down,  on  which  I  chiefly  leaned ;  and  it  breaks  one 
of  the  strongest  ties  which  bind  me  to  the  parish." 

In  his  next  letter  to  his  father,  September  7,  he  thus  rejoices  over 
the  new  missionary  organization,  which  took  its  date  from  this  ses- 
sion of  the  General  Convention  :  "  The  conclusion  of  the  whole 
matter,  at  the  General  Convention,  was  indeed  worthy  of  its  com- 
mencement ;  and  I  regret  that  I  was  not  present  at  a  consummation 
so  devoutly  to  be  wished.  The  Lord  hath  done  great  things  for 
us,  whereof  we  are  glad.  The  Cliurch  being  the  Missionary  Soci- 
ety, by  the  admission  and  universal  consent  of  all  parties  ;  mission- 
ary bishops  being  practicable  on  her  part ;  the  inference  is  conclusive, 
that  they  become  due  from  her  to  her  scattered  population.  Nothing 
seems  to  me  to  be  in  more  strict  accordance  with  the  spirit  of  our 
Master's  injunctions  and  the  principles  of  apostolic  order.  It  carries 
us  back  in  association  to  the  time  when  Paul  and  Barnabas  were 
specially  separated  by  the  Holy  Ghost  for  the  work  whereunto  He 
had  called  them." 

The  first  missionary  bishop,  appointed  and  consecrated  under  this 
new  movement  of  the  General  Convention,  was  the  Rev.  .Tackson 
Kemper,  D.  D.,  then  rector  of  St.  Paul's  Church,  Norwalk,  Connect- 
icut. Tiie  consecration  was  to  take  place  at  an  early  day,  and  Dr. 
Kemper  was  very  desirous  of  seeing  the  vacancy  in  his  parish  supplied 
before  his  removal.  His  attention  had  already  been  drawn  to  the 
rector  of  Christ  Church,  and  he  had  received  communications  from 
Bishops  Brownell  and  Doane,  as  well  as  his  father  and  other  friends, 
expressing  a  favorable  opinion  of  his  qualifications.  As  a  prelimi- 
nary step,  therefore.  Dr.  Kemper  invited  him  to  spend  a  Sunday,  the 
•27th  of  September,  in  the  parish.  But  this  invitation  he  felt  com- 
pelled to  decline  ;  and,  writing  to  his  fatlier,  September  19,  he  says, 
"  1  should  not  like  to  accept  it,  even  if  there  were  nothing  to  prevent 
me  but  my  unwillingness  to  appear  there,  or  in  any  other  parish,  as 
a  candidate.  I  am  perfectly  vvilhng  to  receive  an  invitation  from 
Norwalk,  or  any  where  else ;  but  I  have  not  sought  it,  and  am  by 
no  means  certain  that  1  should  be  disposed  to  accept  it.  I  have 
never  been  there,  and  am  ignorant  of  the  strength  of  its  claims  to 


1835.]  CHRIST  CHURCH.  171 

consideration,  except,  indeed,  what  ought  to  weigh  much  with  me, 
its  vicinity  to  you.  I  will  not,  of  course,  prejudge  it,  but  should  be 
somewhat  surprised  if  I  found  things  altogether  according  to  my 
taste.  As  to  quiet  and  retirement,  I  have  found  that  the  larger  the 
city,  the  more  retired  and  secluded  from  observation  you  may  be. 
I  have  become,  indeed,  so  used  to  my  unpretending  old 
parish,  that  it  is  perfectly  easy  to  me,  and  I  begin  to  think  I  shall 
never  find  just  such  another.  They  take  so  kindly  to  me,  and  put 
up  with  all  my  shortcomings,  how  can  I  think  of  leaving  them  1  It 
is  my  first  love,  and,  with  all  its  faults,  it  will  be  as  good  as  I 
deserve,  if  it  should  be  my  last.  .  .  .  In  writing  to  Dr.  Kem- 
per, do  not  commit  me  at  all  with  regard  to  officiating  at  any  future 
Sunday.  I  have,  perhaps,  too  much  fastidiousness  about  this ;  but, 
next  to  fortune  hunting,  I  dislike  parish  hunting.  I  will  try  to 
respect  myself,  whether  or  not  respected  by  others." 

But  only  two  days  after  the  date  of  this  letter,  his  sensitive  heart 
dictates  the  language  of  apology  :  "  I  fear,"  he  says,  "  I  have  given 
you  cause  to  upbraid  me  with  thwarting  all  the  plans  which  my 
friends  project  for  my  advancement,  and  counteracting,  instead  of 
cooperating  with,  your  eftbrts  to  promote  my  best  interests.  I  know 
that  no  help  can  be  expected  for  those  who  will  not  help  themselves. 
Rest  asoured,  my  dear  father,  that  I  do  most  highly  appreciate  your 
excellent  views  and  intentions  in  this  matter,  and  am  grateful  for 
any  and  all  things  that  you  have  done  and  may  do.  And  if  I  do  not 
respond  so  cordially  as  you  wish,  do  not  suppose  that  it  is  simply 
because,  like  Nym's,  it  is  my  humor,  but  for  good  and  substantial 
reasons,  as  I  may  be  able  to  convince  you  when  we  meet. 
My  people  love  me,  and  we  are  assimilated  together.  The  vows 
of  institution  are  sacred,  and  I  could  not  expect  the  blessing  of 
Heaven  upon  the  breach  of  them.  Many  of  the  most  eminent 
saints  have  been  content  with  much  more  humble  and  irksome 
spheres  of  duty  than  has  been  allotted  to  me,  in  the  kind  providence 
of  God  ;  and  I,  who  am  none,  have  surely  no  right  to  complain.  Do 
not,  therefore,  blame  me  for  what  may  seem  to  you  unreasonable, 
until  you  have  heatiX  me  at  length." 

His  next  letter,  September  28,  amiounces  the  receipt  of  a  formal 
invitation  to  the  rectorship  of  the  church  in  Norwalk,  and  furnishes 
a  copy  of  the  official  call,  and  his  prompt  answer  in  the  negative. 
He  gives  many  good  and  satisfactory  reasons  for  this  course,  adding, 
among  other  things,  "  I  am  at  present  rector  of  an  ancient  and 
respectable  parish,  in  one  of  our  most  flourishing  and  delightful 
cities.  ...  I  have  one  of  the  most  reverend  and  delightful 
old  churches  to  be  found  in  this  country,  a  people  attached  to  me, 
and  entirely  satisfied  with  my  ministrations,  and  with  every  prospect 
of  increasing  and  permanent  usefulness.  Why  should  1  relinquish 
this  comfortable  certainty  for  the  uncomfortable   uncertainties  of  a 


172  MEMOm  OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1835. 

place  I  know  nothing  about,  and  a  people  to  whom  I  am  a  perfect 
stranger  1  ...  I  do  not  transfer  my  aft'ections  readily  or 
hastily.  I  am  not  fond  of  rupturing  old  ties  for  the  sake  of  form- 
ing new  ones ;  and,  over  and  above  all,  I  take  so  much  real  delight 
in  dwelling  among  the  busy  haunts  of  men,  even  though  I  mingle 
with  them  ever  so  little,  tliat  tlie  idea  of  rusticating  myself  in  the 
country,  any  where,  is  repulsive  and  revolting  to  me." 

Having  thus  disposed  of  a  matter  which  had  evidently  caused 
him  not  a  little  anxiety,  he  next  began  to  indulge  the  pleasing 
anticipation  of  meeting  his  brother  Sherman,  in  a  visit  to  their  old 
paternal  home  at  New  Haven.  After  some  unavoidable  delay,  this 
was  finally  accomplished,  in  the  latter  part  of  October.  In  the 
mean  time,  he  had  an  opportunity  to  attend  a  meeting  of  the  Con- 
vention of  the  Eastern  Diocese  at  Portsmouth,  and  was  called  to 
officiate  as  secretary.  The  attendance  was  small,  and  the  business 
unimportant.  The  excursion  began  pleasantly,  and  he  was  pleased 
with  every  thing  he  saw  at  Portsmouth  ;  but  he  returned  in  a  cold, 
uncomfortable  storm,  and  retained  no  very  favorable  impression  of 
the  jaunt. 

In  a  subsequent  letter,  October  12,  he  administers  a  well-merited, 
though  good-natured,  stricture  upon  a  practice,  which,  if  unknown 
to  others,  will  doubtless  be  well  understood  by  the  alumni  of  Yale 
College  :  "  The  committee  of  our  class  have  sent  each  member  a 
copy  of  a  printed  circular,  anatomizing  us  all.  What  a  vexation 
it  is  to  have  been  to  college,  when  it  gives  to  the  gossiping  spirit 
of  your  accidental  associates,  not  chosen  ones,  the  right  to  expose 
to  each  other  your  private  and  domestic  affairs  —  chronicle  the 
events  of  your  life;  who  has  been  hung  and  who  married;  who  is 
in  lock  and  limbo,  and  wedlock  besides ;  who  has  committed  for- 
gery, and  who  matrimony  !  I  am  glad  to  find  that  they  have  so 
few  enormities  of  either  kind  to  lay  to  our  charge,  that  we  have 
neither  crimes  nor  children  to  answer  for.  I  should  like  to  know 
how  they  prove  my  title  to  authorship  ;  but  this  is  their  lookout, 
not  mine,  and  is  quite  as  satisfactory,  on  the  whole,  as  being  made 
responsible  for  the  paternity  of  '  two  or  three  boys.'  When  the 
class  meet  again,  I  hope  they  will  pray  more,  and  print  less  ;  and 
I  desire  to  record  my  wish,  that  none  of  them  may  be  permitted  to 
write  my  epitaph." 

He  left  Boston,  on  his  projected  visit,  on  the  2Ist  of  October, 
and  reached  New  Haven  on  the  following  evening.  His  brother 
Sherman  did  not  arrive  until  the  28th.  They  had,  therefore,  but 
two  days  to  spend  together  at  New  Haven,  before  he  was  obliged 
to  return  to  his  post  in  Boston ;  Sherman,  however,  not  to  be  dis- 
appointed of  his  visit,  concluded  to  accompany  him,  and  they  both 
proceeded  to  Boston  on  Saturday  tiie  31st.  Here  they  spent  ten 
days,  the  most  happy  they  had  enjoyed  together  since  they  had  left 


1835.]  CHIIIST   CHUllCH.  173 

the  scenes  of  their  childhood.  But  as  the  visit  was  drawing  to  a 
close,  he  seemed  to  apprehend,  tliat,  after  so  much  dehghtful  inter- 
course, he  might  feel  more  tlian  ever  tlie  lonehness  of  his  situation. 
Within  a  few  days,  however,  he  writes  as  follows  :  "  I  should  have 
been  more  cast  down  by  his  departure,  if  I  had  had  time  to  dwell 
upon  it ;  but  I  have  been  so  much  taken  up  with  iiiy  accustomed 
round  of  duties  since  he  disappeared,  that  I  am  hardly  able  to 
realize  that  he  is  actually  gone." 

The  following  entry  in  his  diary  bears  date  at  about  the  same 
time,  and  may  have  been  made  under  the  influence  of  the  despond- 
ency of  the  moment.  But  perhaps  not.  It  is  no  evidence  of  an 
unwonted  emotion,  but  may  rather  be  considered  as  the  habitual 
breathing  of  a  devout  and  humble  spirit.  It  is  written  on  the  last 
page  of  a  journal,  embracing  the  record  of  a  single  year.  "  It  has 
been  a  year  fruitful  in  incidents,  of  joy  and  of  sorrow,  and  has 
called  many  of  the  strongest  emotions  of  my  nature  into  exercise. 
It  has  brought  with  it  some  severe  tests  of  Christian  character ;  and 
I  have  deeply  felt,  when  weighed  in  the  balance  of  the  sanctuary, 
how  greatly  I  have  been  found  wanting.  My  progress  in  the  divine 
life  has  not  been  such  as  to  answer  the  lowest  expectations  which 
I  had  formed,  much  less  in  proportion  to  my  advantages.  If  thou, 
Loi'd,  shouldst  be  extreme  to  mark,  what  I  have  done  amiss,  O 
Lord,  who  could  abide  ?  My  only  hope  is  in  his  mercy,  through 
Christ.  May  He  be  daily  more  and  more  my  sanctification,  as  He 
is  my  redemption.  To  Him  I  renewedly  devote  myself,  and  to  His 
service,  soul,  body,  and  spirit,  with  all  their  powers  and  faculties. 
May  He  fill  my  memory  with  the  words  of  His  law,  enUghten  my 
understanding  with  the  illumination  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  may 
all  the  wishes  and  desires  of  my  will  centre  in  what  He  has  com- 
manded." 

But  amid  these  prevailing  characteristics  of  his  mind,  he  is  found 
ever  ready  to  turn  from  grave  to  gay,  as  circumstances  led  to  the 
change.  On  the  opening  page  of  his  next  journal,  speaking  of 
putting  his  papers  in  order,  he  says,  "  Remembering  Curran's  say- 
ing to  Grattan,  that  he  would  have  been  the  greatest  man  of  the 
age  if  he  had  used  more  red  tape,  I  bought  a  dozen  pieces." 

The  following  anecdote  soon  follows  :  While  returning  from 
Charlestown,  one  evening,  being  detained  on  the  bridge  by  the 
opening  of  the  draw,  "  I  was  accosted,"  he  says,  "  by  an  '  ancient 
mariner,'  who  shipmated  me  to  his  heart's  content,  and,  while  the 
draw  was  up,  and  we  were  waiting,  moralized  on  the  obstacles  that 
were  met  with  on  our  daily  walk.  Told  him  he  was  a  s/imvd 
fellow.  He  thought  I  said  sleiced,  which  was  quite  as  true ;  but  he 
took  it  in  good  part." 

The  following  lines  are  found  in  his  manuscript  collection,  under 
date  of  December  28,  and  have  never,  so  far  as  we  can  learn, 
appeared  in  print :  — 


174  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROS^VELL.  [1835. 


TO   A  LADY, 

•mTH   A    SPRIG    OF   MYRTLE. 

O,  those  were  happy  times,  I  think, 

When  symbolizing  leaves 
Conveyed,  instead  of  pen  and  ink, 

The  thoughts  that  love  conceives. 
No  soiling,  then,  of  dainty  skin  : 

Besides,  the  token  sweet 
From  each  obtruding  gaze  kept  in 

The  mystery  complete. 

Mere  words  are  all  too  rude  and  rough ; 

Nor  can  the  tongue  reveal. 
In  terms  half  delicate  enough. 

What  raptured  spirits  feel. 
But  worlds  of  tender  sentiment 

In  one  green  spire  may  lie, 
And  kindred  hearts  know  more  is  meant 

Than  meets  the  stranger's  eye. 


The  following  is  supposed  to  have  been  written  on  the  meeting 
of  tlie  General  Convention  in  1835,  and  is  found  in  the  September 
number  of  the  Missionary,  published  at  Burlington. 


THE   MEETING   OF  THE  TRIBES. 

"  For  thither  the  tribes  go  up." 

The  tribes  have  gone  up,  not  in  battle  array, 
But  to  keep  on  God's  mountain  their  festival  day ; 
The  tribes  have  gone  up  with  their  banners  displayed, 
In  peace  o'er  the  thousands  who  meet  in  their  shade. 

Prom  the  east,  from  the  west,  from  the  south,  from  the  north, 
From  Dan  to  Beersheba,  their  powers  have  come  forth ; 
From  the  wide-spreading  valleys  their  ancients  are  seen. 
And  the  dwellers  on  Lebanon's  mountains  so  green. 

And,  Judah,  thy  lordliest  Lion  is  there. 

Unharmed,  from  the  glorious  depths  of  his  lair ; 

For  the  archers  have  fiercely  shot  at  him  in  vain, 

And  he  sh  ikes  off  their  diirts,  like  tlie  dew,  from  his  mane. 


1835.]  CHRIST  CHURCH.  175 

In  gladness  the  chosen  of  Levi  pour  out, 
And  the  feeblest  starts  up  at  the  summons  devout ; 
Nor  will  one  of  the  twelve  in  their  borders  abide, 
From  the  ship-covered  coast  to  the  Great  River's  side. 

May  the  dew  which,  like  Hermon's,  distils  from  above, 
Sink  deep  in  all  hearts,  and  inspire  them  with  love  ; 
And  the  grace  on  the  head  of  the  aged  high  priest 
Flow  down  on  the  greatest,  and  reach  to  the  least 

The  spirit  of  peace  to  their  counsels  restore, 

O  God  !  and  let  Ephraim  vex  Judah  no  more  ; 

The  spirit  of  might  and  of  wisdom  impart. 

Nor  let  Reuben's  divisions  cause  searching  of  heart. 

So  the  least  of  all  seeds  shall  become  a  great  tree, 
And  shall  spread  from  the  mountains  its  boughs  to  the  sea. 
Till  all  the  wide  land  with  its  shelter  is  blest, 
From  the  dawning  of  day  to  the  uttermost  west. 


It  is  doubtful  whether  the  following  has  ever  appeared  in  print. 
It  is  found  in  his  manuscript  collections,  and  was  probably  written 
during  the  present  year. 


PICTURE   OF  PALESTINE. 


THE    CITIES    OF   THE    PLAIN. 


"  Several  travellers,  and,  among  others,  Troilo  and  D'Arvieux,  assert  that 
they  remarked  fragments  of  walls  and  palaces  in  the  Dead  Sea.  This  state- 
ment seems  to  be  confirmed  by  Maundrell  and  Father  Nahan.  The  ancients 
speak  more  positively  on  this  subject:  Josephus,  who  employs  a  poetic 
expression,  says  that  he  perceived  on  the  banks  of  the  lake  the  shades  of 
the  overwhelmed  cities.  Strabo  gives  a  circumference  of  sixty  stadia  to  the 
ruins  of  Sodom,  which  are  mentioned  also  by  Tacitus.  I  know  not  whether 
they  still  exist ;  but  as  the  lalce  rises  and  falls  at  certain  seasons,  it  is  possi- 
ble that  it  may  alternately  cover  and  expose  the  skeletons  of  the  reprobate 

cities."  CUATEAUBKIANU. 


I  wandered  by  the  Dead  Sea  brink,  in  dreaming  hour,  to  gaze 
Upon  the  awful  monuments  and  wrecks  of  ancient  days. 
If  haply  yet  its  rocky  isles  might  alter  on  my  eyes. 
And,  like  some  arch  enchanter's  pile,  in  gramarye  arise ; 
If  yet  the  clustering  bitumen  its  rude  resemblance  bore 
To  pomps  that  here  had  glorified  the  younger  world  before, 
And  peering  still  above  the  tide,  if  summits  might  be  seen, 
Magnificent,  like  Baly's  towers,  in  sunlight  and  sea  green. 


176  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1836 

A  mournful  sight  it  was,  I  ween,  that  sea,  from  shore  to  shore 
Unruffled  by  one  venturous  wing,  unbroken  by  an  oar ; 
The  air  above,  the  earth  around,  the  desolate  expanse 
Beneath  my  feet  were  all  alike  without  inhabitants ; 
And,  nearest  like  to  living  thing,  the  evening  wind  was  loud. 
And  Jordan,  as  its  raving  streams'  contested  passage  crowd, 
And  suffocating  bursts  of  smoke  that  poisons  all  the  air. 
Told  how  God's  early  wrath  had  left  eternal  traces  tliere. 

But  louder  than  the  Jordan's  rush,  and  deeper  than  the  breeze. 
That  rustled  in  the  hollow  reeds,  methought,  were  sounds  like  these  ; 
They  came  up  with  the  sulphurous  fumes  that  from  the  surface  broke, 
As  if  the  voice  of  those  below  in  solemn  warning  spoke  :  — 
"O,  had  the  wonders  here  been  done  which  now  are  done  in  vain, 
Still  had  these  buried  cities  stood,  the  glory  of  the  plain ; 
But  darker  is  thy  country's  doom,  and  better  shall  it  be 
For  Sodom,  in  the  judgment  day,  than,  guilty  land,  for  thee  ! " 


1836. 

The  year  1836,  though  full  of  vicissitude  and  incident,  wrought  no 
very  material  change  in  tlie  relations  of  the  rector  of  Christ  Church. 
It  appears,  from  his  journal  and  correspondence,  tliat  tliere  was  no 
abatement,  but  rather  an  increase  of  his  cares.  Besides  the  regular 
services  of  his  own  parish,  with  the  customary  round  of  special 
duties,  he  frequently  added,  on  Sunday  evenings,  an  extra  service 
at  Jamaica  Plains,  and  other  places  in  the  vicinity.  Though  lie 
liad  no  serious  attack  of  sickness  during  the  year,  he  frequently 
suffered  from  slight  turns  of  indisposition,  and  from  the  great  bodily 
and  mental  weariness  which  followed  his  labors.  But  his  spirit  was 
always  buoyant,  and  the  transitions  in  his  temper  and  feelings  were 
truly  wonderful.  At  the  very  moment,  for  example,  when  his  over- 
tasked powers  seemed  ready  to  sink,  he  was  enabled,  by  a  sort  of 
elastic  spring,  to  rise  at  once  into  the  region  of  pleasant  fancies, 
and  indulge  in  the  very  exuberance  of  wit  and  playfulness.  He 
could  forget,  too,  his  own  want  of  repose,  when  the  sufferings  of 
others  demanded  his  exertion.  A  tale  of  woe,  or  a  call  for  sympa- 
thy, would  instantly  rouse  his  latent  or  flagging  energies,  and  give 
a  new  impulse  to  his  inovements.  So  sudden,  indeed,  were  these 
transitions,  that  it  was  not  uncommon  to  witness,  at  almost  the  same 
instant,  a  countenance  beaming  with  cheerful  serenity,  while  the 
tears  of  pity  were  coursing  down  the  cheeks.  From  two  sources, 
of  a  directly  opposite  character,  he  experienced  some  inconvenience  ; 


1836.]  CHRIST   CHURCH.  177 

on  the  one  hand,  from  his  friends,  who,  supposing,  and  probably 
with  good  reason,  that  his  constitution  could  not  long  bear  up  under 
his  severe  and  accumulating  labors,  were  extremely  solicitous  to 
persuade  him  to  change  his  pastoral  relations.  With  the  most 
grateful  sense  of  the  kindness  of  these  friends,  it  will  be  perceived 
that  nothing  could  induce  him  to  abandon  his  post ;  but  to  refuse, 
under  such  circumstances,  must  of  course  have  cost  him  a  severe 
struggle.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  he  had  his  enemies;  and  these 
were  ever  ready,  most  unjustly  and  ungenerously,  to  impute  his  best 
and  most  disinterested  exertions  for  the  welfare  of  the  Church  to 
the  unworthy  motive  of  promoting  sinister  ends.  They  could  not 
have  assailed  him  in  a  more  tender  point,  or  in  a  more  ofl'ensive 
manner.  But  it  will  be  seen  with  what  calmness  he  repelled  every 
such  assault,  and  how  triumphantly  his  course  was  vindicated.  But 
it  is  unnecessary  to  anticipate. 

In  opening  the  correspondence  of  the  year,  after  saying,  "  All 
that  can  be  conveyed  in  the  words  and  wishes  of  a  '  happy  new 
year '  are  yours  entirely,"  he  proceeds  to  give  the  substance  of  a 
confidential  communication  from  the  Rev.  Dr.  Rudd,  of  Utica,  con- 
taining an  account  of  the  then  vacant  parish  of  Trinity  Church,  in 
that  city,  speaking  of  the  congregation  as  large  and  united,  the 
church  and  parsonage  as  forming  a  very  neat  and  delightful  estab- 
lishment, and  the  income  as  liberal,  and  asking,  at  the  instance  of 
some  of  the  gentlemen  of  the  vestry,  whether  he  could  be  induced 
to  accept  the  rectorship.  Agreeably  to  his  former  practice  in  such 
cases,  he  declined  to  entertain  any  proposals.  This  correspondence 
was  soon  followed  by  a  somewhat  fault-finding  letter  from  his  friend 
DoANE,  who  urged,  but  without  success,  by  every  argument  in  his 
power,  the  expediency  of  changing  his  resolution  to  decline  the 
oifer.  A  subsequent  letter  from  Dr.  Rudd,  though  very  flattering 
in  its  terms,  must  not  be  withheld  :  "  I  have  many  thanks  to  ofter 
you  for  your  kind  and  frank  letter ;  but  though  you  put  us  at  once 
to  silence  as  to  the  pressing  of  our  desire  to  bring  you  here,  you 
cannot  deprive  us  of  one  gratification,  and  that  is,  the  conviction 
of  those  who  named  you,  fully  sustained  by  the  language  of  your 
letter,  that  you  are  just  such  a  man  as  we  want  here.  With  all  the 
advantages  and  promises  of  usefulness  and  comfort,  and  I  do  think 
they  are  many,  you  reason  soundly  in  relation  to  your  present  situ- 
ation. You  reason  just  as  I  would  have  him  reason  who  was  to  be 
my  neighbor,  my  friend,  my  companion,  and  brother."  After  citing 
so  much  of  this  letter,  he  says,  "  So  you  see  I  take  it  like  a  good 
disciple,  first  on  one  cheek,  and  then  on  the  other  ;  for  the  praises 
of  our  friends,  to  a  man  who  is  conscious  that  he  does  not  deserve 
them,  are  like  buftetings  indeed." 

In  his  letter  of  January  4,  he  cites,  as  a  piece  of  "  pleasantry," 
a  brief  notice,  from  the  Christian  Examiner,  of  a  collection  of  poetry 
23 


178  MEMOIR   OF   WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1836. 

called  tlie  Boston  Book,  in  which  the  writer  says,  "  Some  of  them 
are  by  writers  who  scarcely  avow  themselves  to  be  such,  and  are 
specimens  indeed  not  so  much  of  what  they  have  done,  as  of  what 
they  may  do."  He  then  proceeds  to  give  a  portion  of  the  Hymn 
for  Advent,  with  these  complimentary  remarks,  from  the  same  arti- 
cle :  "  A  piece  to  be  admired  for  its  sublime  simplicity  as  much  as 
its  pure  religion.  The  dignity  of  the  sentiment  sounds,  as  it  were, 
through  the  music  of  the  words.  It  rings  to  us  like  the  church 
chime  in  the  serene  air  of  a  sweet  Sabbath  morning."  This  com- 
pliment seems  to  take  the  author  by  surprise  ;  and  he  asks,  "  Was 
it  occasioned  by  the  delightful  influences  of  our  bells,  think  you  1 
Or  is  there  really  in  the  piece  itself  so  much  more  than 
the  author  ever  dreamed  of?  and  am  I  indeed  like  those  pleasant 
instruments,  all  unconscious  of  the  melody  they  make  ?  If  so,  non 
nobis,  Dominc !  Not  unto  us,  O  Lord,  not  unto  us,  but  unto  thy 
name  be  the  praise  !  "  But  whether  the  critic  be  too  flattering,  or 
the  author  too  modest,  the  reader  must  judge  after  reading  the 
poem  ;  it  appears  on  page  95. 

.January  18,  he  writes,  "  I  am  fitting  up  my  room  very  handsomely 
in  the  church,  and  by  this  day  week,  being  the  festival  of  the  Con- 
version of  St.  Paul,  and  the  seventh  memorable  anniversary  of  my 
ordination,  I  hope  to  be  able  to  speak  of  myself  as  one  that  literally 
dwells  in  the  house  of  the  Lord  —  to  take  possession  of  it  as  my 
permanent  study,  lodge,  and  abiding-place.  I  trust  the  conscious- 
ness of  my  immediate  vicinity  to  all  that  is  sacred  in  the  habitation 
of  the  Lord's  house,  and  the  place  where  his  honor  dwelleth,  may 
not  be  without  some  eftect  in  imparting  a  proper  tone  and  spirit  to 
my  thoughts  and  conversation."  He  expresses  a  hope  also  that  this 
retreat  may  aftbrd  him  some  quiet  exemption  from  unnecessary 
interruptions.  He  describes  one  of  his  rooms  (for  there  were  two 
or  three  of  them)  as  "  a  little  attic,  with  one  skylight  and  one  side 
window,  opening  into  the  north  gallery  of  the  church  by  a  door  so 
small,  as  the  Turkish  Spy  said,  that  the  least  suspicion  cannot  enter 
it.  You  know,"  he  adds,  alluding  to  the  study  room  of  his  boyish 
days,  "  I  am  an  old  '  garretteer,'  and  have  spent  some  of  the  hap- 
piest days  of  my  life  in  these  airy  situations,  with  notions  quite  lifted 
up.  It  is  true  that  the  eaves  slope  down  on  each  side  to  about  half 
my  height,  but  tliere  are  places  where  you  can  stand  erect ;  and 
the  pure  light  of  day  comes  directly  down  from  above  ;  and  almost 
the  only  sound  you  hear  is  the  ticking  of  our  old  '  abbey  horologe,' 
which  tells  of  the  passage  of  time  and  the  approach  of  eternity.  It 
is  indeed  a  solenui  place  for  a  steward  of  the  divine  mysteries  to 
hold  high  contemplations ;  and  I  hope  you  will  have  some  of  the 
benefit  of  my  I'emoval."  This  removal  was  unavoidably  delayed 
beyond  his  expectations ;  and  after  he  had  taken  possession  of  these 
rooms,  his  anticipations  were   not,  in  all   respects,  entirely  realized, 


1836.]  CimiST  CIIUIICII.  179 

as  appears  from  his  later  communications.  But  so  far  as  retire- 
ment, study,  and  meditation  were  concerned,  they  afforded  him 
great  enjoyment ;  and  we  doubt  not  that  some  of  the  sweetest  of 
his  poetical  effusions  had  their  origin  in  these  attic  heights.  He 
frequently  dated  from  "  Attica,"  sometimes  from  "  the  cloisters  of 
the  Old  North  Church,"  and  occasionally  from  "  the  cloisters  of 
Cripplegate."  Tlie  following  most  solemn  and  touching  lines,  found 
among  his  loose  papers,  and  without  date,  were  doubtless  written  in 
these  sacred  cloisters  :  — 


CHRIST   CHURCH. 

Here,  brother,  let  us  pause  a  while, 

And  in  this  quiet  chancel  muse 
On  vanished  friends  who  thronged  each  aisle, 

And  crowded  these  deserted  pews. 
To  whom  I  broke  the  bread  of  life. 

And  poured  the  mystic  cup  of  grace. 
And  hoped,  when  past  this  mortal  strife, 

To  share  with  them  our  Lord's  embrace. 

Full  are  the  tombs  o'er  which  we  tread  ; 

And,  with  o'erwhehning  sense  of  awe, 
I  summon  back  the  holy  dead 

Whom  once  around  these  rails  I  saw. 
And  how  much  nearer,  at  this  hour, 

Their  unseen  presence  than  we  know ! 
This  is  a  thought  of  thrilling  power  — 

O,  speak  with  reverent  voice  —  speak  low ! 

How  oft,  at  dead  of  night,  when  sleep 

In  heaviest  folds  wrapped  all  around, 
I've  come,  my  vigil  here  to  keep, 

And  sighed  to  hear  some  human  sound ! 
Alone,  amid  the  scene  of  gloom, 

I've  watched  for  dawn,  and  felt  oppressed 
To  know,  that,  in  that  lofty  room, 

I  was  the  only  living  guest. 

The  ticking  of  yon  ancient  clock. 

That  marks  the  solemn  tread  of  Time, 
Against  my  heartstrings  seemed  to  knock ; 

And,  hark!  those  Christmas  bells  sublime! 
So  have  they  rung  a  hundred  years. 

And  on  the  ears  that  heard  them  first 
The  chiming  of  the  starry  spheres 

With  their  enrapturing  tones  have  burst. 


180  MEMOLR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1836. 

February  13,  St.  Valentine's  Eve,  he  encloses  a  copy  of  the 
following  verses,  under  tlie  signature  of  "  W.,"  with  the  remark, 
that  he  has  written  them  for  the  Albany  Argus,  "  to  keep  up  the 
mystification  of  the  last  year." 


VALENTINE. 


"  O  thou  sweet  spirit,  hear  I 

Hear  the  mild  epell,  and  tempt  no  blacker  charm  I " 


Lady !  beneath  a  potent  sign, 

I  hail  thee  from  afar, 
For  'tis  the  night  when  Valentine 

Reigns  in  the  calendar  ; 
And  he  my  patron  saint  above 

All  other  saints  shall  be. 
Who  suffered  for  devoted  love, 

And  manly  constancy. 

Few  relics  of  his  mortal  part, 

And  fewer  still,  I  ween. 
Of  his  true  love  and  tender  heart, 

In  these  cold  days  are  seen: 
But  if  his  spirit  still  may  rest 

On  earth,  O,  be  it  mine. 
Till  I,  dear  maid,  shall  stand  confessed 

Thy  faithful  Valentine ! 


It  is  curious  to  look  back,  for  a  period  of  some  sixteen  years 
only,  and  read  such  a  record  as  the  following.  In  a  much  shorter 
time  than  the  writer  could  then  have  conceived,  all  his  pleasing 
anticipations  have  been  more  than  realized,  in  the  opening  of  rail- 
road conununication  in  eveiy  part  of  our  extensive  country.  He 
had  been  to  Worcester  by  railroad,  and  had  returned,  highly  pleased 
with  this  mode  of  conveyance.  "I  could  not  help  thinking,"  he 
says,  "how  delightful  it  will  be  when  this  kind  of  communication  is 
completed  to  New  Haven,  and  I  may  be  able  to  see  you  once  a 
month  without  being  missed  here,  and  without  being  worried  out 
of  all  enjoyment  by  the  fatigue  of  the  ride.  If  this  were  but  a 
dream,  there  would  be  no  harm  in  indulging  it ;  but  I  believe  that 
we  have  but  just  begun  to  know  how  to  make  any  thing  of  this 
great  invention,  and  that  we  shall  see  infinitely  greater  things  than 
these." 

March  7,  he  atmounces  his  removal  to  his  church  rooms  ;  and  if 
one  may  judge  from  the  general  tenor  of  his  letter,  from  whif*' 


1336.]  CHRIST   CHURCH.  181 

liowever,  one  extract  only  can  be  given,  Iiis  elevation  gave  a  new 
impulse  to  his  wit.  "  I  have  retired,"  he  says,  "  witii  the  most 
celebrated  philosophers  of  anticiiiity,  to  that  favorite  retreat  called 
Attica  by  the  classic  writers,  but  better  known  in  the  vernacular  as 
a  cockloft." 

But  these  pleasant  lines  had  scarcely  passed  from  his  hands, 
before  he  was  called  to  mourn,  in  all  the  bitterness  of  grief,  for  the 
loss  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Keese,  whom  he  had  loved  with  a  truly  broth- 
erly affection,  and  who,  as  the  associate  of  his  father  in  the  rector- 
ship of  Trinity  Church,  New  Haven,  had  endeared  himself  not  only 
to  his  senior,  but  to  the  whole  congregation,  as  well  as  a  very 
extensive  circle  of  friends  elsewhere.  The  letter  communicating 
the  afflictive  intelligence  of  this  loss  the  editor  feels  bound,  in  justice 
to  his  own  feelings,  to  copy  entire,  together  with  some  portions  of 
the  letters  of  George  Brinley,  Esq.,*  detailing  the  particulars  of 
the  closing  scenes  in  the  life  of  this  beloved  servant  of  God. 

Under  date  of  March  9,  he  writes  to  his  father,  "  I  have  just 
received  from  Mr.  Brinley  the  melancholy  inteUigence  of  the 
decease  of  our  dear  friend  and  brother,  the  Rev.  William  L. 
Reese,  at  San  Pedro,  not  far  from  Matanzas,  in  Cuba.  Mr.  B. 
informs  me,  that,  at  the  request  of  Mrs.  K.,  he  has  communicated 
the  sad  tidings,  in  similar  terms,  to  yourself  But  as  my  letters  may 
be  fuller,  —  for  there  are  two,  —  I  shall  copy  the  larger  part  of 
them,  in  order  that  you  may,  if  it  be  thought  proper,  communi- 
cate them  for  publication  in  some  of  the  New  Haven  papers.  The 
friends  of  our  late  beloved  brother  are  so  numerous,  and  include  so 
wide  a  circle  throughout  the  country,  that  these  particulars  will,  I 
think,  be  looked  for,  and  I  am  sure  will  be  read  with  deep  interest. 
My  feelings  have  been  much  aff'ected  by  the  receipt  of  these  letters. 
They  are  particularly  touched  by  his  kind  remembrance  of  me  in 
his  last  moments  ;  and  my  mind  is  impressed  in  a  manner,  never, 
I  trust,  to  be  effticed.  In  the  lateness  of  the  hour  I  can  add  no 
more." 

«'  Sax  Pedro,  February  18,  1836. 

"I  have  often  mentioned  the  Rev.  Mr.  Keese  in  my  letters  to 
you  and  my  family.  We  have  not  anticipated  any  cure,  neither  has 
he  expected  it  ;  but  we  had  every  reason  to  believe,  that,  early  in 
April,  he  would  accompany  us  to  Charleston,  S.  C,  and  be  restored 
to  his  family  and  friends.  Within  a  few  days,  however,  there  has 
been  a  sudden  prostration  of  strength,  and  it  is  not  possible  for  him 
to  continue  but  a  short  time.  He  is  calm,  composed,  and  resigned. 
An  hour  since,  I  read  to  him   the   service  appropriate  to  one  in  his 

*  Mr.  Brinley,  with  Mrs.  B.  and  daughter,  had  accompanied  ]\Ir.  and  ^Irs. 
Keese  to  Cuba,  ilrs.  B.  being  ako  in  delicate  health. 


182  MEMOm   OF  WILLIAM    CEOSWELL.  [ISSe. 

situation.  His  mind  is  unimpaired.  We  have  an  excellent  physician 
in  our  house,  who  came  in  company  with  a  sick  lady,  and  he  has 
his  aid  freely.  But,  alas  !  nothing  can  now  be  done  ;  and  his 
strength  is  almost  exhausted.  Since  I  have  been  here,  I  have 
attended  two  in  their  sickness  and  last  moments.  Mr.  K.  was  pres 
ent  in  one  instance,  and  said,  '  I  am  going  in  the  same  manner.' 

"  These  events  affect  us  all  very  much,  more  particularly  the 
invalids.  Mr.  K.  has  heretofore  expressed  an  ardent  hope  that  i1 
would  not  be  his  destiny  to  expire  upon  this  island,  where  there  is 
an  absence  of  all  religious  observance  at  the  funeral ;  and  he  has 
constantly  said,  if  he  found  himself  retrograding,  he  should  imme- 
diately start  for  home.  His  change  has  been  too  sudden,  however, 
to  carry  his  purpose  into  effect ;  and  he  acquiesces  with  true  Chris- 
tian resignation  in  the  necessity.  The  first  person  who  died  here 
was  buried  on  this  estate.  The  authorities,  however,  would  not 
permit  the  same  for  the  second.  As  soon  as  a  person  expires, 
notice  must  be  given  to  a  civil  officer,  who  brings  his  secretary,  and 
takes  an  inventory  of  the  effects.  Then  you  must  seek  the  Padre, 
for  permission  to  bury  in  the  churchyard,  which  is  granted  for  a 
fee,  upon  the  declaration  that  the  deceased  was  a  Catholic.  When 
the  coffin  was  lowered  into  the  grave,  a  gentleman  present  cast  a 
handful  of  earth  on  it,  and  exclaimed  'Adieu  ! '  All  this  excited 
painful  emotions  to  one  accustomed  to  religious  rites  ;  but  it  cannot 
be  avoided." 

"February  19,  1836. 

"Yesterday  I  despatched  a  letter  for  you  to  Matanzas,  apprising 
you  of  the  rapid  decline  of  our  mutual  friend,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Keese. 
It  now  becomes  my  painful  duty  to  acquaint  you  that  he  expired 
this  morning,  at  half  past  seven.  I  watched  with  him  during  the 
night,  and  never  left  him  until  he  breathed  his  last.  He  suffered 
very  much  during  the  last  twelve  hours  of  his  life ;  his  extreme 
debility  preventing  him  from  raising  the  accumulated  phlegm,  and 
he  died  with  suffocation.  He  was  perfectly  conscious  of  his  situa- 
tion, but  found  it  difficult  to  express  himself.  At  half  past  three,  I 
read  some  Scriptures  and  appropriate  prayers,  by  his  request.  When 
finished,  he  exclaimed  aloud  by  great  effort,  'O  Lord  Jesus,  receive 
my  spirit!  Victory  —  victory  through  Christ!'  He  then  embraced 
his  wife,  tiianked  his  piiysician,  and  connnended  him  to  God,  and 
placed  his  wife  under  my  care.  After  the  lapse  of  a  little  time,  he 
turned  to  me,  as  if  he  had  forgotten  something,  and  said,  'Remem- 
ber me  particularly  to  Croswell,  and  kindly  to  Dr.  Wainvvright.' 
The  warmth  of  the  weather  makes  it  necessary  tliat  the  interment 
should  take  place  to-day ;  and  to-morrow  Mrs.  R.  will  leave  this  for 
Matanzas,  twenty  miles,  and  embark  in  the  first  vessel  for  Charles- 
ton, S.  C,  or  New  York.  I  siiall  accompany  her  to  Matanzas,  to 
give  her  facilities  for  embarkation." 


1836.]  CHRIST   CHURCH.  183 

After  giving  these  extracts  from  Mr.  Brinley's  letters,  lie  adds, 
"  The  circumstances  of  her  bereavement  are  indeed  aj^gravating 
and  lieartrending.  I  cannot  but  consider  it,  however,  as  most  gra- 
ciously ordered  by  Providence,  that  Mr.  K.  should  have  had  the 
comfort  of  Mr.  Brinley's  society  in  his  last  days  ;  that  he  should 
have  been  at  hand  to  administer,  in  his  last  hours,  not  to  his  bodily 
wants  only,  but  to  those  spiritual  necessities  for  which  tlie  Church 
has  made  such  comfortable  provision,  and  to  discharge  those  confi- 
dential relations  for  which  his  generous  and  manly  nature  so  emi- 
nently fit  him.  In  all  those  trying  scenes  which  preceded,  attended, 
and  followed  his  death,  his  judicious  counsels,  soothing  attentions, 
and  equanimity  of  character  must  have  made  his  presence  an  un- 
speakable blessing  ;  and  they  shall  in  no  wise  lose  their  reward. 
May  the  same  holy  and  triumphant  consolations  of  our  faith,  to 
vvhicli  he  was  a  witness  not  only,  but  a  minister  also,  be  abundantly 
shed  on  his  last  hours,  and  those  of  all  who  are  near  and  dear 
to  us." 

In  his  remaining  letters  for  the  month  of  March,  which  are  chiefly 
occupied  with  matters  of  private  or  local  interest,  nothing  seems  to 
require  special  notice.  With  the  accumulated  labors  of  the  season, 
and  occasional  turns  of  slight  indisposition,  he  fi)und  but  little  time 
or  strength  to  bestow  on  his  correspondence.  He  announces  his 
intention  of  taking,  immediately  after  Easter,  a  little  relaxation,  by 
absenting  himself  for  three  Sundays  from  his  parish,  leaving  the 
pulpit  to  be  suj)plied  by  some  of  his  neigliboring  brethren.  Accord- 
ingly, on  tiie  4th  of  April  he  left  home,  and  proceeded,  by  the  way 
of  Providence  and  New  York,  to  Burlington.  Here,  and  in  Phila- 
delphia and  vicinity,  he  spent  some  ten  or  twelve  days ;  and  then, 
after  making  a  visit  to  New  Haven,  returned  to  Boston  on  the  29th. 

On  the  30th,  he  dates  a  short  letter  from  the  "  vestry  of  the  Old 
North,"  merely  to  notify  his  father  of  his  safe  arrival,  adding,  "  I 
find  that  I  have  not  returned  too  soon  for  the  good  of  the  parish, 
and  have  been  received  with  the  most  emphatic  demonstrations  of 
gladness  and  good  will." 

But,  on  the  instant,  as  it  were,  the  note  of  sorrow  is  again 
sounded,  and  sickness  and  death  once  more  enter  the  circle  of  his 
beloved  friends.  On  the  4th  of  May,  he  writes  that  a  young  and 
interesting  daugliter  of  his  excellent  and  honored  friend,  Mr.  Brin- 
LEY,  had,  in  the  absence  of  her  parents,  been  brought,  in  conse- 
quence of  bleeding  at  the  lungs,  to  the  very  brink  of  the  grave. 
Though  partially  relieved,  he  speaks  of  her  situation  as  extremely 
critical.  Again,  on  the  9th,  he  writes,  "  Mr.  Brinley  is  daily 
expected.  His  daughter  Sarah  is  a  little  more  comfortable,  but  I 
fear  that  nothing  can  save  her  from  an  early  grave ;  and  I  am 
apprehensive,  not  only  for  her,  but  for  its  effect  upon  the  health  of 
Mrs.  B.      The  family  have  been  visited  with    severe  affliction  within 


184  MEMOIR  OF  WILLIAM   CROS^VELL.  [1836. 

the  last  few  years,  and  there  seems  to  be  more  in  reserve.  May 
God  prepare  them  for,  and  sustain  them  under  it."  Furtlier,  on 
the  16th  :  "  Mrs.  Brinley  returned  on  Wednesday,  having  left 
Riclimond  on  the  preceding  Friday,  and  making  the  more  haste  as 
it  was  considered  doubtful  whether  Sarah  could  possibly  survive 
till  their  return.  On  the  way,  the  state  of  the  case  was  gradually 
broken  to  her ;  and,  considering  the  fatigue  and  anxiety  of  her  rapid 
journey,  she  appears  remarkably  well.  She  is  not  probably  aware 
of  the  extreme  danger  of  her  daughter's  situation ;  but  it  will  grad- 
ually develop  itself  under  her  own  observation,  and  I  hope  will  not 
surprise  her  unawares,  or  find  her  unprepared."  And,  finally,  on 
the  23d :  "  Since  I  wrote  you  last,  Death  has  extinguished  another 
light,  in  the  household  of  our  friend  Mr.  Brinley.  His  daughter 
Sarah  departed  this  life  on  Saturday  morning,  about  one  o'clock. 
Her  religious  character  shone  out  brightly  at  the  last,  and  her  death 
bed  exhibited  a  most  edifying  scene.  She  was  spared  much  bodily 
suffering ;  her  spirit  was  composed  and  tranquil,  her  departure  easy, 
and  her  hope  full  of  immortality.  It  was  my  privilege  to  be  with 
her  in  the  closing  scenes  of  her  life  ;  and  I  found  that  I  had,  until 
then,  underrated  the  intelligence  and  maturity  of  her  mind.  The 
propriety  of  her  religious  views,  and  the  simplicity  of  ber  confi- 
dence in  the  love  of  her  Savior,  convinced  me  that  these  subjects 
had  occupied  her  mind  more  than  the  family  had,  perhaps,  been 
aware  ;  that  her  sickness  and  confinement  had  been  improved  by 
her  to  a  sanctifying  purpose ;  and  that  divine  grace  was  fast  com- 
pleting its  work  upon  her  heart.  Her  kind  consideration  of  all 
about  her,  and  her  extreme  solicitude  lest  she  should  cause  her 
mother  unnecessary  distress,  were  very  aftecting,  and  left  an  impres- 
sion never  to  be  effaced.  She  united  with  great  fervency  in  the 
devotions  which  were  used  at  her  bedside,  at  frequent  intervals,  up 
to  almost  the  last  moment  ;  and  she  joined  her  unconscious  testi- 
mony to  that  of  many  a  dying  saint,  by  desiring  to  have  the  prayers 
of  her  mother,  the  Church,  before  all  others.  By  a  great  struggle 
of  the  spirit  over  the  flesh,  she  was  able  to  unite  distinctly  in  the 
Lord's  prayer,  as  often  as  it  was  repeated  ;  and  in  response  to  the 
ejaculations  of  her  mother,  just  before  she  breathed  her  last,  '  Lord 
Jesus,  receive  my  spirit  1 '  she  audibly  exclaimed,  '  Even  so,  come. 
Lord  Jesus  ! '  So  saying,  she  fell  asleep,  and  entered  into  rest.  We 
cannot  doubt,  that  to  die,  for  her,  has  indeed  been  gain,  and  that 
of  such  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  The  conviction  that  it  is  indeed 
so,  and  that  her  child  has  gone  to  add  to  the  treasures  laid  up  for 
her  in  heaven,  sustains  her  mother's  fainting  heart  under  this  sore 
bereavement ;  and  she  bows  herself  to  the  will  of  God  with  unmur- 
muring resignation.  For  the  same  reason,  I  hope  it  will  not  be 
allowed  to  prey  so  seriously  on  her  own  feeble  health  as  appre- 
hended.    In  compliance  with   Sarah's   own  touching  request,  her 


1836.]  CHRIST   CHURCH.  185 

remains  were  conveyed  to  Brookliiie  on  Saturday  evening,  to  be  laid 
bv  the  side  of  her  sister  in  that  rural  burial-place,  and  to  add  another 
to  the  consecrated  associations  which  already  make  that  spot  like 
'  holy  ground.'  Nothing  could  be  more  serene  and  heavenly  than 
the  expression  of  hei-  countenance  after  her  death,  when,  looking 
steadfastly  on  her,  we  saw  her  face  as  it  had  been  the  face  of  an 
angel."  A  letter  of  the  same  date,  addressed  to  an  aunt  of  the 
deceased,  Mrs.  Grosvenor,  of  Hartford,  has  been  placed  in  our 
hands  ;  and  had  we  not  already  anticipated,  in  the  foregoing  ex- 
tracts, all  the  principal  facts  and  reflections  contained  in  this  letter, 
we  should  not  fail  to  avail  ourselves  of  the  privilege  granted  to  us 
of  copying  it  entire.  These  extracts  are  given,  as  well  to  record 
a  passing  tribute  to  the  memory  of  the  lovely  child,  who,  on  this 
occasion,  was  the  object  of  his  tenderest  solicitude  and  kindest  min- 
istrations, as  to  exhibit  some  of  the  peculiar  traits  of  this  devoted 
pastor's  character,  and  to  show,  by  this  living  sketch,  the  nature 
of  the  trying  scenes  through  which  he  was  often  called  to  pass. 
"  Being,"  he  says,  at  this  time,  "  the  only  minister  on  hand,  I  have 
had  more  duty  than  usual,  and  my  hands  are  full  ;  but  I  have  never 
yet  found  my  strength  unequal  to  my  day,  and  am,  by  the  great 
mercy  of  God,  in  excellent  health." 

But  we  are  now  to  turn  to  another  episode  in  his  eventful  life. 
During  his  late  visit,  he  had  been  led,  by  some  intimations  from  a 
correspondent,  to  expect  an  invitation  to  become  the  assistant  min- 
ister of  the  Church  of  All  Saints,  in  the  city  of  New  York.  He 
knew  not  by  what  influences,  nor  through  whose  well-meant,  though 
unwelcome  offices,  the  attention  of  the  parish  had  been  turned  to 
him.  But  the  call,  in  due  form,  reached  him  soon  after  his  return 
to  Boston  ;  and  he  thus  speaks  of  it,  dating  from  the  "  Old  North," 
May  9  :  "  I  have  received  the  official  communication  from  New 
York,  including  a  letter  from  the  rector,  another  from  the  rector, 
wardens,  and  vestry,  and  a  third  from  the  committee  appointed  to 
transmit  the  same.  They  are  full  and  hearty,  and  impress  me  much 
more  strongly  than  I  supposed  they  could,  after  what  had  been 
already  said  to  me.  They  do  not  go  in  the  least,  however,  to  affect 
my  determination.  .  .  .  The  invitation  from  All  Saints  is  grat- 
ifying on  many  accounts  ;  and  I  have  no  doubt,  if  I  needed  any 
thing  of  that  kind,  that  it  would  be  of  much  service  to  me  here. 
I  have  reason  to  believe,  however,  that  my  people  already  appreciate 
me  quite  as  highly  as  I  deserve  ;  and  I  could  be  in  no  situation 
where  more  readiness  could  be  exhibited  to  do  every  thing  in  their 
power  to  make  me  comfortable  and  happy.  While  this  is  the  case, 
nothing  will  induce  me  to  leave  them."  It  is  not  necessary  to  copy 
the  entire  correspondence  in  this  case.  The  call  is  made  in  the 
usual  form,  and  is  well  characterized  by  himself  as  "  full  and 
24 


186  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1836. 

hearty."  But  fiom  his  own  copies  on  file,  we  are  enabled  to  tran- 
scribe his  letters  in  reply  to  the  rector,  the  Rev.  William  C.Clark, 
and  to  the  conanittee  of  the  vestry  who  transmitted  the  invitation. 

"Boston,  ila>j  14,  1836. 

«'Rev.  and  dear  Sir:  It  is  just  a  week  to-day  since  I  received 
your  favor  of  the  2d  inst.,  enclosing  an  invitation  to  become  assist- 
ant minister  of  All  Saints'  Church,  New  York,  from  the  rector, 
wardens,  and  vestry  of  the  same,  together  with  a  letter  from  their 
committee,  in  which  you  all  most  cordially  unite  to  urge  it  upon 
my  acceptance.  I  should  do  violence  to  my  feelings,  if  I  did  not 
expi-ess  the  deep  and  grateful  impressions  which  this  testimonial  of 
your  confidence  and  regard  has  made  upon  my  mind  ;  and  I  assure 
you,  that  during  this  whole  time  it  has  occupied  my  constant  and 
serious  deliberation.  For  reasons,  however,  with  which  it  will 
not  be  necessary  to  trouble  you  in  detail,  I  have  come  to  the  con- 
clusion that  it  is  my  duty  to  decline.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  they 
grow  not  less  out  of  the  consideration  of  the  pleasant  nature  of  my 
present  parochial  relations,  than  from  a  consciousness  of  my  pecu- 
liar inaptitude  for  such  a  situation  as  the  meridian  of  New  York. 
It  is  doubtless  true,  as  you  observe,  that  a  parish  there  presents  a 
sphere  of  usefulness  superior  to  almost  any  other;  but  I  feel  a  deep 
conviction  of  my  deficiency  in  those  qualifications  which  I  conceive 
to  be  absolutely  indispensable  to  ministerial  usefulness  in  such  a 
situation.  The  noise  and  bustle  of  your  great  city  confuses  and 
distracts  me  ;  and  the  stirring  spirit  which  you  require  is  so  dift'er- 
ent  from  any  thing  which  has  been  called  into  exercise  in  this  ancient 
and  quiet  abode,  where  unsophisticated  simplicity  could  hardly  be 
surpassed  in  any  rural  cure,  and  afibrds  me  many  of  the  advantages 
of  nis  in  urhe.  In  declining  the  invitation,  therefore,  I  trust  I  have 
been  as  mindful  of  what  was  due  to  you  and  your  parish,  as  to  me 
and  mine ;  and  with  the  value  which  I  am  disposed,  after  some 
years'  experience,  to  put  upon  my  own  services,  I  am  perfectly 
convinced  that  their  loss  at  Christ  Church  >vould  be  much  greater 
that  their  gain  could  possibly  be  at  All  Saints. 

"  liCt  me  assure  you.  Rev.  and  dear  sir,  that  I  feel  greatly 
indebted  to  you  for  the  consideration  of  personal  preference  which 
led  to  your  nomination  of  myself  as  your  assistant,  and  hope  to 
see  you,  at  some  early  day,  face  to  face,  and  make  some  fidler 
acknowledgment  of  the  obligation.  In  the  mean  while,  accept  my 
best  wishes  that  your  attention  may  be  directed  to  the  selection  of 
some  brother  more  apt  and  meet  to  cooperate  with  you  in  promot- 
ing the  spiritual  welfare  of  your  flock,  and  that  you  and  they  may 
long  continue  to  rejoice  together. 

"  With  great  respect,  yours  truly, 

"W.  CROSWELL. 
«<  To  the  Ilev.  William  A.  Clakk." 


1836.1  CHRIST   CHURCH.  187 

"Boston,  May  14,  1836. 

"Gentlemen:  I  have  receivttl  a  communication,  bearing  date 
New  York,  April  2.5,  1836,  in  which  the  rector,  wardens,  and  vestry 
of  All  Saints'  Church,  agreeably  to  the  nomination  of  the  rector, 
and  the  approval  of  the  board  of  the  vestry,  legally  convened,  invite 
me  to  become  the  assistant  minister  of  said  church.  This  is  accom- 
panied with  the  earnest  personal  solicitation  of  your  respected 
rector,  and  a  letter  from  yourselves,  as  committee  of  the  board, 
expressing  the  most  anxious  desire  that  I  should  entertain  a  favora- 
ble view  of  your  wishes.  I  am  also  given  to  understand  that  the 
proposed  arrangement  is  in  accordance  with  the  wishes  of  the  con- 
gregation generally,  and  receives  the  countenance  and  support  of 
your  excellent  diopesan.  I  should  be  insensible  not  to  feel  that  you 
have  done  me  undeserved  honor  ;  and  I  beg  leave  to  assure  you 
personally,  and  through  you  the  highly  respectable  body  of  gentle- 
men, whom  I  yet  know  only  by  their  signatures,  tiiaf^nothing  could 
be  more  gratifying  than  such  an  evidence  of  their  good  opinion,  or 
more  satisfactory  than  the  terms  in  which  it  is  conveyed  ;  nor  can 
I  doubt,  that  were  I  at  liberty  to  accept,  it  would  be  a  pleasure  and 
a  privilege  to  be  associated  with  them  in  the  pastoral  connection. 
At  the  same  time,  I  should  be  undeserving  of  this  expression  of 
your  regard,  if  I  were  lightly  to  sever  the  sacred  and  endearing  ties 
which  bind  me  to  my  present  cure.  As  I  have  been  anxious  to 
avoid  disturbing  the  minds  of  our  own  people  unnecessarily,  I  have 
not  communicated  with  them  on  the  subject,  and  indeed  have  en- 
deavored to  form  my  conclusions  without  consulting  with  flesh  and 
blood.  In  the  mean  time,  1  have  received  so  many  fresh  and  spon- 
taneous evidences  of  the  prevalence  of  the  very  best  spirit  on  their 
part,  and  receive  them  as  such  clear  indications  of  duty,  that  I  should 
not  feel  justified  at  present  in  giving  encouragement  to  any  propo- 
sals of  change  whatever.  For  these  reasons,  and  others  alluded  to 
in  my  letter  of  this  date  to  your  respected  rector,  I  must  beg  leave 
to  decline  the  invitation  which  you  have  done  me  the  honor  to  offer, 
and  to  express  the  hope  that  you  may  be  directed,  with  the  same 
unanimity  in  your  counsels,  to  a  wiser  and  better  choice. 

"  I  hope  I  have  not  kept  the  parish  in  unnecessary  suspense  by 
any  seeming  delay  in  making  this  connnunication.  It  is  but  a  single 
week  since  your  papers  were  before  me  ;  and  a  less  time  for  con- 
sidering and  deciding  the  question  would  hardly  have  been  consistent 
with  the  respect  which  was  due  to  those  who  made  the  call,  and 
tlie  importance  of  the  decision  to  all  the  parties  interested.  .  .  . 
"  To  ^lessrs.  Pixckney,  Walton,  and  Hanfokd,  Committee,  &c." 

On  the  16th  he  writes  to  his  father,  "  I  have  sent  my  letters, 
declining  the  invitation  to  All  Saints' ;  and  they  sound  so  pleasantly, 
as  a  friend  observes,  that  they  will  be  naturally  desirous  to  have  me 


188  IMEMOm   OF  ^T;LLIAM   CR0S'\\TELL.  [1836. 

decline  again.  If  my  refusal  be  so  satisfactory,  I  am  almost  afraid 
to  ask  what  my  accejitance  would  #e.  Meanwhile,  my  own  peculiar 
people  have  been  showing  themselves  zealous  of  good  works.  With- 
out knowing  any  thing  of  what  had  transpired  with  respect  to  All 
Saints',  and  without  the  slightest  desire  or  expectation  on  my  part, 
they  have  voluntarily  given  me  the  best  proof  of  their  regard  and 
attachment,  which,  under  the  circumstances  of  the  parish,  it  was  in 
their  power  to  bestow  —  by  raising  my  salary.  I  have  not  yet  suffi- 
ciently recovered  from  my  surprise  to  decide  how  I  shall  dispose  of 
my  surplus  revenue,  but  think  it  probable  that  no  small  portion  of 
it  will  go  to  patronize  the  public  conveyances  that  will  bring  me, 
in  the  shortest  possible  time,  to  New  Haven." 

This  ver}^  reasonable  suggestion  was  not  forgotten,  though  his 
anticipated  visit  homeward  was  necessarily  deferred  for  a  few  weeks. 
In  the  mean  time,  he  dates  from  the  "cloisters,"  and  writes  in  his 
accustomed  free  and  easy  style.  June  21,  he  says,  "  The  consecra- 
tion of  Grace  Church,  and  the  services  connected  with  the  Conven- 
tion, have  passed  off  very  pleasantly.  I  cannot  complain  of  not 
having  had  my  share  of  honor  and  attention.  Besides  being  assigned 
to  a  part  in  the  consecration,  I  was  subsequently  appointed  preacher 
to  the  next  Convention,  and  a  member  of  the  standing  committee. 
I  am  not  sure,  also,  that  I  do  not  figure  among  the  trustees  of  the 
seminary  and  on  the  board  of  missions.  I  was  not  present  at  the 
closing  scenes  of  the  Convention,  when  these  appointments  were 
made,  and  have  seen  no  one  who  could  tell  me  much  about  it.  The 
smallest  favor  thankfully  received,  and  duly  acknowledged.  I  have 
not  aspired  to  these  distinctions ;  but,  like  the  hero  of  two  wars,  — 
if  so  great  things  may  be  likened  to  small,  —  I  shall  act  upon  the 
simple  principle,  that  '  office  is  neither  to  be  sought  nor  declined.' 
My  manner  of  life  continues  to  agree  witli  me,"  &c. 

One  week  later,  .Tune  27,  he  finds  occasion  to  write  in  a  different 
strain  :  "I  do  not  know  whether  you  will  be  glad  or  sad,  but  it 
rather  vexes  me,  that  I  have  been  forced  out  of  my  lodgings  at  the 
cloisters,  by  something  stronger  than  superstition  or  the  force  of 
public  opinion.  Tell  it  not  in  Gath.  •  I  have  been  haunted,  haunted 
by  a  visitation  from  the  tombs;  inaudible,  unseen  ministries,  but, 
alack-a-day  !  not  tmsmelt."  Tombs,  it  seems,  had  been  erected  under 
the  vestry ;  "  and  whenever  they  are  opened,"  he  says,  "  for  the 
reception  of  a  new  tenant,  they  give  out,  of  course,  something  more 
doleful  than  a  cry.  It  is  true  that  this  has  happened  but  once  or 
twice  ;  and  so  potent  has  been  my  protest,  that  it  will  probably 
never  happen  again  ;  but  as  I  am  something  of  an  alarmist  on  such 
subjects,  and  value  myself  too  highly  to  expose  myself  to  the  least 
risk  from  offensive  and  unwholesome  exhalations,  I  have  made  an 
ado  about  it,  struck  my  tent,  and  taken  my  abode  again  at  the 
American    House.       Here   I   shall   remain   until  I   can   do    better, 


1836/  CHRIST   CHURCH.  189 

retaining  my  study  and  sanctum  still  in  the  vestry  and  attic  of  the 
church,  which  grow  daily  upon  my  estimation,  as  the  most  desirahle 
centres  of  motion." 

Under  date  of  the  "  glorious  fourth,"  which  fell  on  Monday,  he 
writes,  '« Three  animated  services  yesterday,  a  ride  to  Canihridge 
at  night,  and  a  walk  from  thence  this  morning,  are  somewhat 
exhausting  to  the  animal  frame ;  and  it  will  not  be  strange  if  I  find 
my  pen  moving  rather  tremulously  and  languidly  along,  — 

'  Just  like  a  sick  man  in  his  dream, 

Three  paces,  and  then  faltering.' 

The  noise  and  tumult  of  this  day  of  uproar  has  not  yet  invaded  the 
quiet  of  the  cloisters.  I  should  hardly  be  aware  of  its  arrival  but 
for  the  sounds  from  afar.  I  am  hardly  tempted  out  this  morning 
by  any  thing  that  reaches  my  ear.  After  dinner,  I  may  mingle  a 
little  in  the  stir  of  the  great  Babel ;  and,  at  night,  I  shall  be  hardly 
able  to  resist  the  treat  of  the  fireworks  on  the  Common,  (if  the 
weather  permits,)  which'  are  said  to  be  rather  finer  tlian  any  thing 
of  the  kind  ever  exhibited  in  Boston." 

In  the  course  of  this  month,  he  succeeded  in  effecting  a  meeting 
with  his  brother  Sherman  at  New  Haven,  and  making  a  joint  visit 
of  several  days.  He  left  Boston  on  the  14th,  and  returned  on  the 
23d.  On  the  25th,  dating  from  the  "  cloisters  of  Cripplegate,"  he 
thus  alludes  to  this  visit  :  "  My  last  visit  convinces  me  that  a  good 
deal  can  be  done  in  a  little  time,  and  that,  in  this  way,  we  shall  be 
able  to  come  often  without  being  much  missed.  Though  Sherman's 
confinement  is  much  greater,  at  certain  seasons  of  the  year,  than 
mine,  still  the  facihties  for  getting  home  are  so  much  greater  from 
Albany  than  Boston,  that  he  can  easily  make  liis  arrangements  for 
seeing  you  frequently,  even  if  it  be  but  for  a  day  or  two.  You 
must  urge  it  upon  him  ;  and  as  often  as  he  will  make  an  appoint- 
ment upon  which  I  can  depend,  I  will  not  fail  to  meet  him.  1  feel 
indeed  that  it  is  a  duty,  as  well  as  a  delight,  thus  to  assemble  our- 
selves together ;  and  it  should  be  repeated  with  the  greater  alacrity, 
while  there  are  no  domestic  ties  to  encumber  our  movements,  while 
the  household  circle  is  mercifully  preserved  unbroken,  and  we  have 
all  life  and  health  to  enjoy  them.  I  assure  you  that  I  cherish  my 
late  visit  as  among  my  happiest  hours,  though  rapid,  alas !  as  pleasant 
in  their  flight." 

In  the  same  letter  he  thus  alludes  to  the  death  of  Bishop  White  : 
"  Yesterday  I  did  what  I  could  to  make  Bishop  White's  death 
remembered.  I  robed  the  episcopal  chair  in  black,  rung  funeral 
airs  on  the  bells,  had  the  music  solemn  and  plaintive  through  all  tlie 
services,  introduced  one  of  the  collects  of  the  burial  service  ;  and 
though  I  did  not  preach,  yet  the  whole  exercises  were  of  so  marked 


190  MEMOIR   OF  \VILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1836. 

a  character  as  to  produce  an  obvious  impression  on  the  minds  of 
the  people.  After  divine  service  in  the  afternoon,  I  called  the 
wardens  and  vestry  together,  stated  to  them  some  of  the  cii'cum- 
stances  of  Bishop  White's  decease,  proposed  a  brief  series  of  reso- 
lutions respecting  the  same,  which  will  be  printed,  and  was  requested 
to  preach  on  the  subject  next  Sunday  morning.  To-day,  at  the 
suggestion  of  some  of  us,  the  bishop  has  called  a  meeting  of  the 
clergy  of  the  city  and  vicinity,  on  Wednesday,  at  his  house,  to  do 
what  is  right  and  proper  in  the  premises.  And  I  hope  what  is  right 
and  proper  will  be  done." 

The  hope  here  expressed  does  not  seem  to  have  been  fully  real- 
ized ;  for  he  writes  in  his  next  letter,  "  The  bishop  did  me  the 
honor  to  take  my  advice  as  to  the  expediency  of  calling  a  meeting 
of  the  clergy,  with  reference  to  the  decease  of  Bishop  White.  At 
my  suggestion,  he  prepared  some  resolutions,  and  a  collect  to  be 
used  in  our  churches.  The  substance  of  them  will  be  found  in  the 
Witness.  Strange  to  say,  however,  we  had  some  difficulty  in  getting 
them  passed ;  and  to  secure  unanimity,  they  were  obliged  to  undergo 
some  important  modifications."  Two  of  the  brethren  "objected, 
at  the  threshold,  to  every  thing,  as  savoring  of  idolatrous  veneration, 
or  going  to  magnify  the  bishop's  office  above  that  of  his  brethren. 

S especially  objected  to  designating  him  as  guide  or  father; 

and  when  referred  to  the  Prayer  Book  in  justification  of  the  epithet, 
he  further  expressed  his  regret  that  it  was  countenanced  by  the 
liturgy.  The  force  of  radicalism  could  go  no  further,  and  never 
did  it  appear  more  disgusting.  If  we  parted  with  increased  vener- 
ation for  the  dead,  it  was  with  higher  contempt  and  apprehension 
for  the  living ;  so  that  our  coming  together,  as  on  many  previous 
occasions,  was  not  for  the  better,  but  for  the  worse."  He  then 
adds,  "Our  church  was  well  filled  yesterday;  and  I  preached  in  the 
morning  on  the  text  which  I  selected  at  home,  from  2  Kings  ii.  3. 
It  gave  so  good  satisfaction,  that  the  proprietors,  after  service,  met, 
and  requested  a  copy  for  publication.  I  shall  tell  them  to  come 
again  in  nine  years,  according  to  the  Horatian  canon,  and  I  will  let 
them  know." 

In  a  subsequent  letter,  he  writes,  "  The  movements  in  testimony 
of  veneration  for  the  memory  of  Bishop  White  seem  to  have  been 
simultaneous  and  spontaneous  in  all  parts  of  the  country.  The 
churches  here  have  generally  exhibited  some  badge  of  sorrow,  with 
the  exception  of  St.  Paul's ;  and  sermons  have  been  preached 
expressly  with  reference  to  the  event.  ...  I  was  yesterday 
reading  one  of  Bishop  Andrews's  petitions  for  the  king,  and  was 
much  struck  with  its  beauty  and  the  remarkable  manner  in  which 
it  had  been  realized  by  the  patriarch  of  our  Church  :  '  Let  the  dial 
of  his  life  move  slowly  on ;  and  sutfer  not  his  old  age  to  strike,  till 
those  who  now  stand  up  about  him  like  the  tender  branches  of  the 


1836.]  CHRIST   CHURCH.  191 

vine,  be   seen  growing  on   the   banks  of  this  same    kingdom,  like 
rows  of  tall  cedars.' " 

There  is  much  of  pleasant  and  familiar  chit-chat  in  his  corre- 
spondence of  this  period,  which  we  have  neither  the  right  nor  the 
disposition  to  draw  forth  from  the  privacy  of  domestic  custody.  We 
will  only  select,  here  and  there,  such  passages  as  may  best  seem  to 
develop  those  deep  and  sympathetic  feelings  which  formed  the  most 
endearing  traits  of  his  character.  Having  been  informed  of  the  severe 
and  dangerous  sickness  of  an  aunt  in  New  Haven,  whom  he  most 
sincerely  loved  and  honored,  he  writes,  "  She  has  been  a  kind  and 
attentive  friend  to  the  sick  and  afflicted,  and  I  trust  will  find  her 
reward,  in  this  her  day  of  visitation.  It  is  a  path  which  we  must  all 
travel ;  and  the  thought  is  calculated  to  make  us  realize  our  depend- 
ence, not  only  on  God,  but  on  each  other,  and  make  us  the  more 
anxious  to  discharge  our  relative  duties  while  the  day  lasts."  After  her 
death,  lie  writes,  November  22,  "It  is  difficult  for  me  to  realize  that 
my  good  aunt  is  really  dead,  and  that  I  shall  see  her  face  on  earth 
no  more  forever.  I  did  not  know  myself  how  well  I  loved  her  till 
now ;  and  it  grieves  me  to  the  heart  that  I  have  given  her  so  few 
tokens  of  what  I  felt  towards  her  while  it  was  yet  in  my  power. 
With  the  sincerity  of  sorrow  I  mourn  her  loss ;  and,  in  common 
with  all  who  knew  her  best,  I  desire  ever  to  cherish  and  imitate  tlie 
example  of  uncommon  excellence  which  she  exhibited  in  all  the 
relations  of  life.  With  what  unspeakable  comfort  and  satisfaction 
can  we  dwell  upon  the  manner  in  which  she  discharged  every  duty, 
domestic,  social,  and  religious.  How  can  we  ever  forget  the  many 
delightful  hours  which  she  has  enlivened  with  the  playful  but  inno- 
cent spirit  of  her  conversation,  her  sterling  depth  of  Christian  prin- 
ciple, her  warm  and  tender  compassion,  ever  alive  to  the  claims  of 
poverty  and  privation,  and  that  rare  combination  of  sensibility  and 
energy  which  exists  only  in  the  female  breast,  and  made  the  sons 
and  daughters  of  need,  of  suftering,  and  affliction  ever  ready  to  rise 
up  and  call  her  blessed  ?  She  cannot  but  have  entered  into  peace ; 
and  her  works,  many  and  beautiful,  do  indeed  follow  her  ;  and  where 
she  is,  like  her  and  her  Savior,  may  we  be  also." 

On  every  recurrence  of  his  birthday,  his  thoughts  took  a  pensive 
turn.  Writing  to  his  brother  Frederick,  November  4,  he  says, 
"  Next  Monday  will  be  my  birthday  ;  and  if  I  feel  as  at  present,  I 
shall  think  that  I  am  quite  old  enough  to  have  completed  my  thirty- 
second  year.  It  causes  me  great  searchings  of  heart  that  I  am  no 
wiser  and  better  as  life  wears  away,  and  hope  that  I  shall  have  grace 
to  turn  over,  with  the  next  leaf,  to  a  brighter  and  more  blessed 
page."  His  next  letter,  dated  on  his  birthday,  November  7,  is 
addressed  (his  father  being  absent  on  a  journey)  to  his  cousin  Eliz- 
abeth :  "  This  is  my  birthday ;  and  mother,  at  least,  will  not  forget 
this  day  of  joy  and  sorrow  two-and-thirty  years  ago.     It  makes  me 


192  MEMOIR    OF  WILLIAM    CKOSWELL.  [1836. 

sad  to  think,  how  little  of  comfort  to  her,  how  little  of  usefulness 
to  society,  that  long  track  of  years  has  brought.  I  should  despair 
for  the  future,  but  that  such  a  feeling  would  but  aggravate  the  sin 
with  which  the  past  is  burdened.  In  very  truth,  my  cousin,  I  feel 
wondrous  old,  and  am  conscious  of  the  want  of  something  like  a 
new  spring  to  reanimate  the  premature  winter  of  my  being.  . 
But  I  will  not  indulge  in  this  melancholy  train  of  thought,  lest  it 
should  be  contagious  to  kindred  minds.  The  world  is^  bright  around 
me,  my  health  is  excellent,  my  spirits  good,  and  my  heart  is  not 
yet  dead  within  me.  I  hope  to  be  at  home  soon,  and  give  you  living 
evidence  that  I  can  yet  stand  up,  and  '  give  the  world  assurance  of 
a  man.'  I  cannot  but  admit  that  I  long  to  have  the  time  arrive, 
and  shall  count  the  days  of  father's  absence." 

He  commemorated  this,  his  thirty-second  birthday,  also,  in  the 
following  beautiful  stanzas,  addressed  to  his  father,  introduced  by  a 
Latin  motto  from  Milton,  and  dated  from  the  "cloisters  of  Cripple- 
gate,  November  7,  1836." 


TO   MY  FATHER. 

My  father,  I  recall  the  dream 

Of  childish  joy  and  wonder. 
When  thou  wast  young  as  I  now  seem, 

Say,  thirty-three,  or  under  ; 
When  on  thy  temples,  as  on  mine, 

Time  just  began  to  sprinkle 
His  first  gray  hairs,  and  traced  the  sign 

Of  many  a  coming  wrinkle. 

[  recognize  thy  voice's  tone 

As  to  myself  I'm  talking  ; 
And  this  firm  tread,  how  like  thine  own, 

In  thought,  the  study  walking  ! 
As,  musing,  to  and  fro  I  pass, 

A  glance  across  my  shoulder 
Would  bring  thine  image  in  the  glass, 

Were  it  a  trifle  older. 

My  father,  proud  am  I  to  bear 

Thy  face,  thy  form,  thy  stature, 
But  happier  far  might  I  but  share 

More  of  thy  better  nature  ; 
Thy  patient  progress  after  good. 

All  obstacles  disdaining, 
Thy  courage,  faith,  and  fortitude. 

And  spirit  uncomplaining. 


1836.]  CHRI8T   f'KTTRCH.  (93 

Then  for  the  day  that  I  was  born 

Well  might  I  joy,  and  borrow 
No  longer  of  the  coming  morn 

Its  trouble  or  its  sorrow  ; 
Content  I'd  be  to  take  my  chance 

In  either  world,  possessing 
For  my  complete  inheritance 

Thy  virtues  and  thy  blessing  ! 

From  this  time  he  began  to  project  another  visit  to  New  Haven, 
where  he  expected  again  to  meet  his  brother  Sherman  ;  but  so 
many  obstacles  intervened  connected  with  his  official  duties,  that  he 
was  compelled  to  defer  it  froui  week  to  week,  and  finally  to  relin- 
quish it  altogether,  very  much  to  his  own  sorrow,  as  well  as  the 
disappointment  of  his  brother  and  the  family  at  home.  December 
29,  he  writes,  "  My  last  forlorn  hope  is  gone  ;  and  it  is  now  too  late 
to  think  of  getting  home  in  season  to  see  Sherman."  After  detail- 
ing some  of  the  causes  of  the  detention,  he  adds,  "  All  these  things 
seem  to  be  against  me ;  but  God  knows  best.  I  write  with  a  smile 
on  my  lips  and  a  tear  in  my  eye  ;  but  it  will  do  no  good  to  weep 
about  it.  I  wanted  to  see  Sherman,  but  it  is  not  indispensable. 
Perhaps,  too,  I  can  reach  him  at  Albany  ;  at  any  rate,  I  shall  look 
forward  to  a  meeting  with  him  in  the  spring,  in  the  old  parsonage." 

At  this  time,  he  had  an  unpleasant  controversy  with  one  of  his 
brethren  of  the  clergy  of  Boston.  It  originated  in  an  entire  mis- 
apprehension on  the  part  of  his  assailant,  who  addressed  him  in 
language  extremely  reprehensible  and  hurtful  to  his  feelings.  It  is 
evident,  from  his  journal  and  from  his  letters  to  his  father,  that  he 
found  great  difficulty  in  restraining  his  indignation.  "  I  was  tempt- 
ed," he  says,  "  to  use  harsh  language  in  reply,  but,  by  the  grace  of 
God,  was  brought  to  a  better  mind,  and  have  got  the  advantage  of 
him,  by  writing  such  an  answer  as  becomes  one  Christian  minister 
to  send  to  another."  It  is  quite  unnecessary  to  record  this  corre- 
spondence, especially  as  it  terminated  amicably,  and  in  a  manner 

highly  creditable  to  both  parties.     Mr.  S ,  after  tendering  a 

full  apology,  and  entering  into  a  satisfactory  explanation  of  the 
whole  matter,  closes  thus:  "Allow  me  now  to  say,  that  I  exceed- 
ingly regret  that  any  circumstance,  however  originating,  should  have 
led  to  the  misunderstanding  which  has  temporarily  interrupted  the 
harmony  of  our  mutual  relations,  and  to  express  my  earnest  hope 
that  the  correct  understanding  of  those  circumstances,  to  which  we 
have  now  attained,  may  contribute  to  future  increased  pleasantness 
in  our  clerical  and  Christian  intercourse."  And  this  is  the  response 
of  the  rector  of  Christ  Church  :  "  I  beg  you  to  believe,  my  dear 
sir,  that  I  as  freely  forgive  the  injury  as  I  would  be  forgiven  under 
25 


194  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1837. 

similar  circumstances  ;  I  cordially  reciprocate  the  wishes  you  express 
for  a  better  understanding  between  us  ;  and  I  am  happy  in  the  belief, 
that  the  exercise  of  such  courtesy  as  is  observed  in  the  common 
intercourse  of  gentlemen  will  preserve,  and  the  influence  of  Chris- 
tian charity  will  surely  augment,  the  harmony  of  those  relations 
which  every  consideration  of  duty  requires  us  to  maintain  towards 
each  other." 


1837, 


Before  the  foregoing  controversy  had  bfeen  brought  to  a  con- 
clusion, a  visit  to  New  Haven  was  accomplished.  He  left  Boston 
on  the  4th  of  .Fanuary,  and,  proceeding  by  the  way  of  Worcester 
and  Hartford,  arrived  at  New  Haven  on  the  5th.  This  visit  appears 
to  have  passed  very  pleasantly,  being  spent  chiefly  among  his  friends 
and  relatives ;  but  it  terminated  rather  abruptly,  in  consequence  of 
a  summons  to  return  on  account  of  the  dangerous  illness  of  a 
parishioner.  While  on  this  visit,  at  the  request  of  two  of  his  young 
friends,  he  wrote  verses  in  their  albums.  This  was  an  act  of 
courtesy,  which,  from  his  good  nature,  he  was  seldom  able  to 
decline.  Of  these  productions,  however,  probably  very  few  have 
ever  found  their  way  beyond  the  covers  of  the  books  in  which  they 
were  originally  written.  In  the  present  case,  one  of  the  two  was 
copied  into  his  own  manuscript  collection,  from  which  it  is  here 
transcribed. 

"  The  fear  of  the  Lord,  tliat  is  wisdom." 

Such  wisdom  as  thy  name  implies, 

And  all  who  seek  may  find, 
Be  ever  honored  in  thine  eyes, 

And  treasured  in  thy  mind  ; 
Its  glory  more  tiian  gold  or  gem 

Thy  happy  brow  sliall  deck, 
Be  on  thy  head  a  diadem, 

And  pearls  about  thy  neck. 

For  they  who  fear  the  Lord  shall  be 

Unto  salvation  wise ; 
And  mighty  is  the  mystery 

Which  in  that  sentence  lies. 


1837.]  CHRIST   CHURCH.  195 

Unmoved  by  other  fear  or  shame, 

Let  but  that  fear  be  thine, 
And  in  the  spirit  of  thy  name 

Pursue  the  life  divine. 


Of  the  other  it  is  difficult  to  speak  with  confidence  ;  but  the 
following  is  found  in  the  manuscript  collection  of  a  friend,  without 
date,  and  may  be  inserted  in  this  place :  — 


IN   AN  ALBUM. 

Here,  Lady,  as  from  some  Sibylline  leaf, 

Read  of  the  after  time,  when  thou  shalt  know 
Thou  hast  a  mightier  book  than  Prospero ; 
Albeit  he  of  necromancers  chief 

Boasted  his  volume  of  enchanting  power, 
(As  thou  hast  read,  whose  leisure  loves  to  pore 
On  Britain's  and  thy  country's  choicest  lore,) 

To  call  departed  spirits  to  his  bower. 
This  is  the  potent  tome,  which  erewhile,  spread 
At  mystic  moments,  when  thy  soul  has  read 
Each  penman's  spell  work,  howsoever  brief. 

Shall  straight  recall  his  form  in  life  and  lunb  ; 
Then  Heaven  forefend,  that  gentle  hearts,  with  grief, 
Or  yet  in  anger,  should  remember  him. 


On  his  return  home,  on  the  20th,  he  was  much  relieved  by  finding 
that  the  condition  of  the  parishioner,  whose  extreme  illness  had 
occasioned  his  urgent  recall,  was  much  less  alarming  tlian  he  had 
reason  to  apprehend.  But  he  did  not  regret  his  early  return,  as 
tliere  was  at  the  time  a  considerable  amount  of  sickness  in  the 
parish,  and  his  presence  was  much  needed.  His  account  of  one 
case  is  so  remarkable  that  it  is  freely  transcribed,  in  full  confidence 
that  it  is  in  no  respect  exaggerated  :  "  One  young  man,  in  our 
neighborhood,  died  the  same  morning,  literally  a  victim  and  a  mar- 
tyr to  Graham's  system  of  abstinence.  Ten  months  ago  he  was 
in  the  bloom  of  health  ;  but  straw  beds,  pillows  filled  with  shavings, 
cold  water  baths  daily,  and  cold  water  diet,  with  bread  toasted  to 
a  crisp,  and  the  merest  vegetable  stuff",  had  reduced  him  to  a  skele- 
ton. His  mind  became  diseased,  as  his  body  decayed;  and  nothing 
could  divert  him  from  his  delusion.  At  last,  his  blood  began  to 
stagnate  and  corrupt.  Boils  made  their  appearance.  He  told 
Graham   of  it  ;   but  he  burst  into   a  horse  laugh,  clapped  him   on 


196  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1837. 

the  shoulder,  told  him  he  was  glad  of  it,  tliat  they  would  do  him 
good,  and  that  he  wished  he  had  a  hundred  !  In  this  respect  his 
wishes  were  gratified,  for  Job  himself  was  not  more  completely 
covered  from  head  to  foot." 

In  a  letter,  dated  from  the  "  cloisters  of  Christ  Church,"  on  the 
first  Sunday  evening  after  his  return,  he  thus  administers  a  rebuke, 
which,  though  applied  to  the  congregations  in  New  Haven,  might 
have  been  extended  with  equal  justice  to  a  large  portion  of  the 
worshipping  assemblies  of  the  Church  throughout  the  country.  The 
day  had  been  extremely  stormy,  and  he  says,  "Our  congregations 
have  of  course  been  thin  ;  but  it  did  my  heart  good  to  hear  how 
heartily  and  strongly  the  responses  were  made  by  the  few  who  were 
present.  It  was  in  remarkable  contrast  with  the  deathlike  stillness 
of  your  congregations  in  New  Haven,  which  is  enough  to  chill  the 
warmth  of  a  saint's  devotion.  Though  I  have  often  observed  this 
trait  in  my  parish,  I  was  never  so  struck  with  the  difference  before ; 
and  I  really  felt  proud  and  elevated  by  the  sound,  as  of  many 
waters,  which  made  the  church  echo  with  the  responses  of  the 
Litany  to-day." 

January  31,  he  announces  with  much  gratification  the  safe  arrival 
of  Rev.  Dr.  Wainwright,  in  fine  healtli  and  spirits,  from  England, 
where  he  had  been  spending  several  months.  He  had  brought  with 
him  an  excellent  organ  for  Trinity  Church,  which  was  intended  to 
surpass,  and  doubtless  did  surpass,  any  instrument  of  the  kind  then 
in  the  country.  Of  the  extraordinary  qualities  and  powers  of  this 
instrument,  some  interesting  jiarticulars  will  be  found  hereafter.  In 
this  letter  he  also  mentions  a  visit  from  the  Rev.  Dr.  S ,  remark- 
ing that  it  was  the  first  he  had  ever  made  him  since  he  came  to  the 
city.  The  interview  was  long  and  dispassionate,  and  led  to  the  con- 
cluding letters  in  the  correspondence  above  mentioned.*  At  a  later 
date,  in  transmitting  copies  of  these  letters,  he  says,  "I  am  glad 
that  it  has  been  brought  to  so  creditable  a  close  for  me ;  and  I  iiave 
no  disposition,  even  were  it  my  duty,  to  concern  myself  further  with 
the  business.  I  hope  the  society  will  not  think  it  necessary  to 
meddle  with  it;   but,  at  n    /  rate,  the  clergy  must  let  it  alone." 

He  speaks  in  this  \.id  several  subsequent  letters  of  the  great 
amount  of  sickness  in  his  parish,  and  of  an  unprecedented  share  of 
duty.  But  he  represents  his  own  health,  at  this  time,  as  perfectly 
sound.  The  records  of  the  year,  however,  disclose  the  fact  that  he 
was  often  overcome  by  his  excessive  labors,  and  thnt  certain  indica- 
tions sometimes  betrayed  but  too  plainly  an  impaired  state  of  the 
constitution.     These   disclosures  are  found  more  frequently  in  his 

*  See  pp.  193,  194. 


1837.]  CHRIST   CHFllCH.  197 

diary  than  in  his  letters.  His  diary  was  a  record  entirely  private, 
and  was  designed  for  no  eye  but  his  own.  His  entries  were  indeed 
sometimes  made  in  a  dead  lano:uage,  or  in  stenographical  cliarac- 
ters,  to  secure  concealment.  Here,  therefore,  he  could  write  with 
perfect  freedom ;  but  in  his  letters  he  was  more  guarded,  that  he 
might  not  excite  the  apprehensions  of  his  friends.  But,  not  to 
anticipate,  it  is  sufficient,  at  present,  to  cite  a  passage  or  two  from 
a  letter  of  Sunday  evening,  February  19  :  "I  have  had  no  assist- 
ance whatever  in  three  full  services,  to-day,  though  there  have  been 
three  clergymen  present,  besides  Sunday  school,  baptisms,  and  visit- 
ing the  sick."  Of  this  last  duty  he  had  a  great  amount.  At  the 
close  of  his  letter,  he  says,  "  I  wish  I  were  going  out  to  Europe 
with  cousin  B.  I  think  such  a  voyage  would  do  me  good  service, 
though  I  cannot  plead  any  necessity  on  the  score  of  ill  health,  and 
should  much  prefer  being  well  enough  at  home  to  being  a  valetudi- 
narian abroad.  I  am  tired  with  a  hard  day's  work,  but  never 
enjoyed  better  health." 

Another  letter  from  the  "  cloisters  "  gives  a  little  further  infor- 
mation as  to  the  new  organ,  imported  by  the  rector  for  Trinity 
Church  :  "  It  is  certainly  a  wonderful  instrument,  and  excites  the 
admiration  of  our  builders  here,  who  are  men  of  no  mean  reputa- 
tion in  their  business,  but  who  confess  that  this  will  far  surpass  their 
art.  Many  of  the  larger  pipes,  which  we  construct  of  wood,  are, 
in  this  instrument,  of  metal ;  and  the  doctor  says  that  there  is  not 
less  than  a  ton  in  the  weight  of  all  of  them  together.  A  peculiarity 
of  this  class  of  instruments  is,  that  the  performer  turns  his  back  to 
the  organ,  and  looks  towards  the  people,  with  his  keyboard  before 
him,  after  the  fashion  of  a  piano-forte.  The  builder,  young  Gray, 
who  has  come  out  with  it,  is  said  to  be  one  of  the  very  best  per- 
formers in  England,  and  presided  at  the  organ,  at  the  great  musical 
festival  in  Westminster  Abbey,  accompanied  by  seven  hundred  sing- 
ing men  and  singing  women,  besides  the  orchestra.  .  .  .  Gray 
says,  that,  at  the  first  sound  of  all  the  music  at  this  festival,  the 
effect  was  so  overwhelming  that  he  burst  into  tears,  as  did  almost 
all  the  performers  about  him,  and  cried  through  the  whole  of  it. 
Such  was  their  ecstasy  that  they  literally  could  not  contain  them- 
selves. We,  on  this  side  of  the  water,  have  but  little  idea  of  any 
such  music  as  this  ;  but  we  have  the  comfort  of  knowing,  as  old 
•Tohn  Newton  says,  that  if  we  behave  like  good  Christians,  we  shall 
have  much  better  music  in  heaven." 

The  following  lines  were  written,  under  date  of  March  28,  in 
the  oratorio  of  "  The  Feast  of  Tabernacles."  They  are  found  in 
manuscript,  and  it  is  doubtful  whether  they  have  appeared  in  print. 


198  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CEOSWELL.  [1837. 


"THE   FEAST   OF  TABERNACLES." 

Methinks  there  is  indeed  a  "  feast " 

In  these  inspiring  words  alone, 
Which  could  not  even  be  increased 

By  music's  most  enchanting  tone. 
My  inmost  sense  they  ravish  quite 

With  scenes  and  sounds  so  dear  to  me, 
They  fill  my  ear,  they  fill  my  sight, 

And  leave  no  room  for  minstrelsy. 


ye  who  will  the  spells  of  power 

In  which  the  sons  of  song  combine  : 
To  sit  and  muse  some  silent  hour 

O'er  these  transporting  leaves,  be  mine  ! 
Here  pitch  my  verdant  tent ;  for  here 

He  must  have  felt  it  good  to  be, 
Who  built  these  tabernacles  dear 

To  Faith,  and  Fame,  and  Fantasy ! 


Among  the  occurrences  of  this  period,  there  was  one  which 
caused  him  mucli  conflict  of  feeling  ;  this  was  the  removal  of  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Eaton  to  Burhngton,  N.  .1.,  in  comphance  with  an  invita- 
tion from  Bishop  Doane,  to  take  a  prominent  situation  in  St.  Mary's 
Hall,  an  institution  established  by  the  bishop  for  the  education  of 
the  daughters  of  the  Church.  The  call  to  this  important  and 
responsible  post  was  indeed  a  high  and  well-merited  testimony  to 
the  worth  of  Dr.  Eaton,  and  as  such,  was  most  welcome  and  grati- 
fying; but  to  his  younger  brother  personally,  and  to  the  general 
interests  of  the  Chiu-ch  in  Boston,  it  was  a  severe  privation.  From 
the  time  of  his  first  settlement  as  rector  of  Christ  Church,  he  had 
been  permitted  to  look  up  to  Dr.  Eaton,  his  immediate  predecessor 
in  the  cure,  not  only  as  a  venerated  father  and  brother  in  the  min- 
istry, but  as  a  highly  valued  and  esteemed  counsellor  and  friend,  on 
whose  judgment  and  opinion  he  felt  as  if  he  could  always  rely  with 
the  most  entire  confidence.  Dr.  Eaton  having  also  occupied,  for 
several  years,  tlie  post  of  city  missionary,  in  which  his  labors  were 
abundautly  blessed,  his  removal  could  not  but  be  considered,  in 
both  respects,  as  a  serious  calamity.  Writing  on  the  day  before  his 
removal,  he  says,  "  This  breaking  up  of  the  doctor  makes  us  all 
sad,  and  me,  especially,  homesick.  We  shall  accompany  him,  if 
not  to  the  ship,  at  least  to  within  three  hours'  ride  of  it ;  and  1 
shall  not  wonder  if  souie  natural  tears  are  shed  on  that  occasion." 
Accordingly,  he   notes  in   his   diary,  the   next  day,  that   a  party  of 


1837.]  CHRIST   ClIUKCII.  199 

clertrvinen  and  others  accompanied  the  doctor  and  famdy,  and  took 
leave  of  tlieni  at  the  raih'oad  station  honse. 

This  change  in  his  clerical  associations,  taken  in  connection  with 
other  circumstances  of  a  disconra<rin<^  nature,  produced  a  moment- 
ary depression  of  his  spirits.  While  he  was  treated  personally 
with  every  mark  of  respect  and  cordiality,  he  discovered  some  indi- 
cations of  restlessness  and  want  of  harmony  among  a  few  ])romi- 
nent  members  of  his  flock ;  and  these  local  jealousies  and  dissen- 
sions affected  unfavorably  the  best  interests  as  well  of  the  pastor  as 
of  the  people.  Though  his  own  essential  wants  were  decently  pro- 
vided for,  there  was  so  little  unity  of  effort  among  his  people  that 
the  pecuniary  affairs  of  the  parish  were  much  neglected,  and  suffered 
to  run  into  a  state  of  embarrassment.  Under  the  pressure  of  these 
untoward  circumstances,  he  was  drawn,  as  a  matter  of  course,  to 
seek  relief  by  unburdening  himself  to  his  father.  In  a  confidential 
letter  of  IMay  8,  he  freely  states  all  liis  difficulties,  and  suggests  the 
possibility  that  some  change  in  his  pastoral  relations  may  be  expe- 
dient, if  not  necessary.  He  even  intimates  that  he  might  get  over 
all  his  scruples  about  entering  once  more  into  an  editorial  engage- 
ment, or,  if  considered  less  objectionable,  might  be  induced  to  teach 
a  few  pupils  in  the  higher  branches  of  education,  in  connection  with 
the  more  appropriate  duties  of  his  office.  He  concludes,  however, 
with  expressions  of  strong  attachment  to  his  parish,  and  a  hearty 
desire  to  avoid,  if  possible,  any  disruption  of  their  mutual  ties. 

But  these  nnpleasant  reflections  were  interrupted,  and  his  mind 
ha))pily  diverted,  by  a  train  of  intervening  circumstances.  He  had 
fUready  projected  a  visit  to  New  Haven,  where  he  hoped  to  meet 
iiis  brother  from  Albany.  But  while  this  visit  was  still  in  suspense, 
lie  was  induced  to  change  his  purpose  by  a  summons  to  Burlington, 
to  attend  the  ordination  of  Mr.  E.  G.  Prescott,  a  young  gentleman 
of  Boston,  for  whom  he  entertained  a  high  regard,  and  to  whom  he 
had  granted  the  customary  facilities  for  obtaining  orders.  Mr.  Pres- 
cott had  been  pursuing  his  theological  studies  with  Bishop  Doane, 
and  desired  to  receive  his  ministerial  commission  at  his  hands.  He 
writes,  with  reference  to  this  invitation,  "  He  is  very  urgent  on  his 
own  account,  and  brings  pressing  invitations  from  all  our  warm 
friends  there,  to  have  me  accompany  him  ;  and  as  I  have  not  the 
slightest  inducement  to  decline,  I  have  consented  to  do  so.  I  am 
laboring  just  now  under  a  severer  cold  than  I  have  had  for  many 
months,  and  it  is  quite  desirable  that  T  should  have  some  relaxation 
at  once.  Then  it  is  more  than  a  year  since  I  have  been  in  New 
Jersey,  and  perhaps  I  should  not  find  again,  this  season,  so  conven- 
ient an  opportunity." 

On  his  way  to  Burlington,  he  dates  from  the  Astor  House,  New 
York,  May  18;  and  after  giving  an  account  of  his  passage  thus  far 
with  Mr.  Prescott,  he  says,  "  We  have  fine  rooms  in  this  magnifi- 


200  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM    CROSWELL.  [1837. 

cent  liouse  ;  but  tliis,  you  know,  is  not  the  kind  of  tliin^  that  the 
heart  yearns  after,  and  can  do  nothing  towards  satisfyinoj  the  crav- 
ings of  the  immortal  mind.  I  should  be  lonesome  and  homesick 
to  abide  here,  and  would  not  give  one  day  in  the  humblest  abode 
of  domestic  happiness  for  a  whole  life  to  be  spent  in  these  mansions 
of  gloomy  splendor." 

On  the  following  day  they  proceeded  to  Burlington  ;  and  on  the 
21st,  being  Trinity  Sunday,  he  preached  both  parts  of  the  day,  for 
his  friend  Doane,  in  St.  Mary's  Church.  The  ordination  of  jMr. 
Prescott  took  place  on  the  25th,  and  on  this  occasion  he  had  the 
gratification  of  presenting  the  candidate.  On  the  28th,  among  many 
pleasant  things,  he  writes,  "  A  great  change  has  come  over  the  spirit 
of  my  dream  since  the  morning  we  embarked  for  New  Jersey. 
Every  thing  here  is  verdant  and  vernal,  and  it  is  impossible  for  the 
spirit  to  resist  the  influences  which  they  combine  to  produce.  St. 
Mary's  Hall  is  a  perfect  establishment  of  the  kind,  and  every  thing 
works  to  a  charm.  .  .  .  Such  bright  and  sunny  faces  I  have 
seen  nowhere,  of  late,  as  on  the  banks  of  the  Delaware  ;  and  I  doubt 
whether  Dr.  Eaton  ever  enjoyed  himself  as  he  does  now." 

He  still  lingered  at  Burlington  until  after  the  session  of  the  dio- 
cesan Convention  ;  and  then,  on  the  2d  of  .Tune,  took  his  departure 
for  New  Haven,  by  the  way  of  New  York,  and  arrived  on  Saturday, 
the  3d.  Though  complaining  much  of  fatigue,  he  was  persuaded 
to  preach  in  both  churches  on  the  following  day,  besides  attending 
a  Bible  class  in  the  evening.  The  remainder  of  the  week  was 
spent  very  pleasantly  in  visiting  his  friends,  until  Friday,  when  lie 
thought  it  his  duty  to  return  to  his  parish.  Remaining  at  Hartford 
over  night,  he  addressed  a  letter  to  his  mother,  from  whicii  a  (ew 
passages  are  selected,  to  show  his  lively  appreciation  of  the  beauties 
of  natural  scenery  :  "  I  cannot  say  that  I  ever  enjoyed  the  ride 
more  in  this  direction.  The  richness  and  luxuriance  of  the  vege- 
tation exceed  any  thing  that  I  have  seen  on  this  route  before.  The 
variety  of  scenery  is  very  considerable.  Even  the  lowly  meadows 
of  North  Haven  are  glorified  with  the  most  beautiful  green,  and  the 
river  winds  about  in  a  way  which  makes  it  worthy  of  being  famous. 
The  church  is  the  crowning  ornament  of  a  most  picturesque  land- 
scape. All  the  old  shady  haunts  on  the  back  side  of  East  Rock, 
towards  Whitneyville,  were  in  their  best  array,  and  brought  back 
many  interesting  associations.  The  bold  ridges  about  Meriden  lifted 
up  their  verdant  sides  to  the  eye  in  a  most  inviting  manner ;  and 
many  a  traveller,  in  search  of  the  picturesque,  has  gone  many  a 
weary  mile  to  see  what  was  less  worth  the  labor.  Long  reaches  of 
meadow  and  interval,  with  streams  and  rejoicing  vales,  greeted  the 
eye  from  every  ascent,  and  set  the  jjoetical  temperament  all  astir. 
In  short,  I  felt  proud  of  old  Connecticut,  as  the  birthplace  of  my 
father  and  my  mother,  and  wished  she  might  have  half  as  much 


1837.]  CHRIST   CHURCH.  201 

reason  to  be  proud  of  me."  But  if  this  be  poetry,  he  does  not 
close  without  sonietliiug  of  deeper  import :  "  I  have  been  most  gra- 
ciously favored,  dear  mother,  thus  far,  and  feel  that  I  have  done 
right  in  returning  to  my  duties  this  week.  I  should  have  been  glad 
to  have  been  witli  you  longer ;  but  we  must  be  content  in  this  world 
with  momentary  gratifications,  and  be  willing  '  to  meet  to  part.'  A 
time  will  come,  I  trust,  in  a  better  country,  when  your  son  will  be 
ever  with  you,  and  all  that  he  has  will  be  thine." 

Of  the  salutary  effects  of  this  journey,  and  of  the  manner  in 
which  he  entei'ed  anew  upon  his  duties,  he  must  be  allowed  to  speak 
for  himself.  It  may  be  remarked,  however,  that  if  he  had  gathered 
any  new  strength  in  his  absence,  he  found  abundant  occasion  for 
the  employment  of  all  the  energies  both  of  his  body  and  his  mind. 
His  next  letter  is  dated  on  Monday  morning,  the  12th  of  June  :  "  I 
am  once  more  immersed  in  this  region  of  rheum  and  fogmatics, 
and  north-easter  anthems.  I  was  weary  and  chilled  when  I  reached 
here  with  the  roughest  rides  from  Hartford,  the  atmosphere  being 
severe  enough  to  make  a  fire  as  agreeable  as  in  early  winter.  My 
first  impressions  were  those  of  homesickness.  Every  thing  was  in 
such  grating  contrast  with  all  that  I  had  left,  and  seemed  to  symbol- 
ize cold  and  ungenial  hearts.  Let  me  do  my  dear  people,  however, 
no  such  wrong.  The  delight  which  they  express  at  my  return  ought 
to  stifle  every  murmur  of  discontent.  .  .  .  On  the  whole,  I 
cannot  express  too  strongly  the  satisfaction  which  my  visit  has  given 
me,  both  at  the  time  and  in  the  retrospect.  I  have  gathered  a 
treasure  house  of  precious  memories  and  thoughts,  to  cheer  the 
mind,  when  it  feeds  upon  itself,  in  the  hours  of  loneliness  and  soli- 
tude. I  feel  as  if  I  had  accomplished  much  in  a  brief  space  of 
time,  and  can  hardly  realize  that  it  is  but  three  weeks  since  I  left 
the  city.  ...  I  had  a  very  refreshing  rest  on  Saturday  night, 
which  placed  me  far  above  the  need  of  any  aid  on  Sunday.  The 
services  of  the  day  were  fatiguing,  the  more  so  that  I  felt  obliged 
to  undertake  the  third  service  at  Jamaica  Plains." 

On  the  following  day,  he  addressed  a  letter  to  an  esteemed  friend 
at  Hartford,  with  whom  he  had  spent  a  few  hours  while  on  his 
recent  journey.  One  of  those  veins  of  pleasantry,  which  are  often 
found  in  his  private  correspondence,  is  selected,  by  permission,  from 

this  letter  :  "  Mr. will  read  with  interest  in  the  papers  the 

account  of  the  Irish  row  in  Broad  Street.     Brother  was 

in  the  midst  of  it,  and  described  it  as  a  most  exciting  scene.  I 
reviewed  the  seat  of  the  war,  this  morning,  with  him,  and  he 
showed  me  the  place  where  he  was  tumbled  by  the  crowd  over  a 
tar  barrel,  and  made  himself  redolent  with  all  sorts  of  low-water 
smells.  Had  he  been  finished  by  an  accidental  brickbat,  the  story 
would  not  have  told  so  well  on  his  tombstone.  Besides  the  broken 
windows,  you  might  know  by  the  heaps  of  feathers  in  the  streets 
20 


202  MEMOni   OF   WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1837. 

that  there    had  heeii  some  foul  play.      B said  he  liad   been 

inquired  of  as  to  the  merits  of  the  case,  but  could  not,  for  the  life 
of  him,  see  any  merit  in  it  at  all." 

A|Ktlo«:izing  for  a  little  delay  in  his  next  letter,  he  says,  "  If  it 
had  been  as  easy  to  execute  as  to  plan,  I  should  have  prepared  my 
letter  early  this  morning.  But,  to  adopt  the  figurative  idiom  of  the 
East,  Thoughts  are  the  sons  of  heaven,  Words  are  the  daughters  of 
the  earth.  The  former  fly  through  the  universe  while  the  latter  are 
walking  across  the  street."  The  meeting  of  the  Convention  was 
at  hand,  and  he  was  much  interrupted  by  the  gathering  together  of 
the  clerical  and  other  members  ;  while  the  preparation  of  a  sermon 
for  the  occasion  seems  to  have  caused  him  no  little  anxiety:  "In 
the  intervals,  that  dreaded  Convention  sermon  is  to  be  prepared,  at 
least  a  portion  of  it  ;  and  I  shall  not  breathe  freely  until  that  duty 
is  discharged.  I  am  only  astonished  at  myself,  that,  having  such 
an  unaffected  horror  of  being  [)laced  in  such  a  predicament,  I  did 
not  at  once  decline  the  appointment.  By  the  time  that  you  receive 
this,  however,  it  will  all  be  over,  and  I  shall  claim  the  warmest 
congratulations  of  all  my  correspondents."  These  expressions  of 
self-distrust  were  doubtless  perfectly  sincere  and  heartfelt ;  but  they 
were  entirely  groundless.  The  sermon  met  with  general  approba- 
tion ;  and  his  friends  spoke  of  it  in  such  complimentary  terms,  that 
he  could  account  for  it  only  on  the  ground  of  undue  partiality. 

In  his  diary  of  .Tuly  8,  he  records  the  departure  of  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Boone  on  his  foreign  mission,  and  speaks  of  having  presented  him 
with  a  co])y  of  Reble,  in  which  he  had  inserted  some  lines  of 
poetry.  Of  these  lines  it  is  not  certain  that  any  copy  remains ;  but 
the  following  stanzas,  which  are  found  in  a  manuscript  collection 
without  date,  seem  so  appropriate  to  the  occasion,  that  they  are 
inserted  in  this  connection  :  — 


THE  mSSIONAEY'S   FAREWELL. 

The  signal  is  made  from  yon  mast  o'er  the  trees. 
Which  nods  to  the  billows,  and  beckons  the  breeze : 
The  anchor's  upheaved,  and  the  sails  are  unfurled, 
To  carry  him  forth  to  the  ends  of  the  world. 

And  now  the  near  headlands  already  float  by. 
And  the  half-shrouded  cottages  swim  in  his  eye; 
And  a  thousand  past  joys  are  recalled  by  the  view, 
Which  his  bosom  can  never,  O,  never  renew  ! 

At  length  he  puts  forth  from  his  own  native  bay, 
And  the  bark  of  his  country  sweeps  southward  away ; 


1837.1  CHRIST   CHURCir.  203 

And  the  heart  of  the  messonger  inwardly  bleeds, 
As  each  object  grows  dim  on  the  shore,  and  recedes. 

How  can  he  refrain  from  the  strong  burst  of  tears,    • 
As  the  land  of  his  forefathers  fast  disappears. 
As  the  mountains  and  hilltops  grow  dusky  and  dun, 
And  turret  and  spire  fade  away  one  by  one ! 

But  his  bosom,  alas !  shall  more  bitterly  ache 
O'er  the  tenderer  ties  which  that  parting  must  break  ; 
And  the  tears  will,  in  spite  of  his  manliness,  start, 
As  affection's  full  tide  rushes  back  on  his  heart. 

But  for  these  though  the  flesh  in  its  weakness  may  yearn, 
His  spirit  is  willing,  he  would  not  return ; 
His  orders  are  onward,  'tis  his  to  obey ; 
He  dare  not  decline,  and  he  dare  not  delay. 

And  the  day  is  soon  coming  those  friends  to  restore, 
Whom  he  loveth  not  less,  but  his  Savior  the  more, 
When  the  faithful  to  death  shall  receive  their  reward, 
And  together  partake  of  the  joy  of  their  Lord. 

With  him,  when  our  own  weary  voyage  is  past, 

Be  the  haven  of  happiness  entered  at  last. 

In  that  "  far  better  country,"  undarkened  by  sin, 

Where  the  shouts  of  the  ransomed  shall  welcome  us  in ! 


At  this  period,  he  seems  to  have  entered  with  renewed  ardor  and 
energy  into  the  interests  of  his  Sunday  school.  From  his  diary  we 
learn,  that,  on  Sunday,  the  9th,  in  addition  to  the  full  services  of 
the  day,  with  a  baptism,  lie  spent  several  hours  in  personally  super- 
intending and  instructing  the  children  of  the  school  ;  and  on  the 
following  day,  writing  on  the  subject  to  a  lady  of  Hartford,  with 
whom  he  was  in  correspondence,  he  says,  "1  am  glad  to  tell  you 
that  my  heart  warms  more  to  that  portion  of  pastoral  duty  than 
ever  of  late  ;  and  I  deeply  regret  that  any  supposed  inaptitude  for 
the  work  has  so  long  prevented  me  from  giving  it,  personally,  its 
portion  in  due  season.  I  intend  in  future  to  lay  myself  out  more 
largely  in  that  field,  being  well  assured  that  our  most  glorious  har- 
vest, for  time  and  eternity,  is  to  be  looked  for  from  the  blessing  of 
God  upon  faithful  Sunday  school  instruction.  I  have  many  things 
to  discourage  me  in  my  parochial  relations  ;  but  here,  I  feel  as  if 
the  hopes  of  the  Church  were  secure  from  disappointment." 

Some  notes  are  next  found  of  a  sort  of  missionary  visit  to  Bangor, 
Maine,  which  appears  to  have  been  undertaken  in  pursuance  of  an 


204  MEMOIR   OF  AVILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1837. 

arrangement  with  some  of  liis  iieigliboiiiig  brethren  of  the  clergy. 
"  It  is  an  arrangement,"  he  says,  July  24,  "  which  does  great  vio- 
lence to  my  inchnations  and  habits  ;  but  I  cannot  escape  from  it 
without  the  "reproach  of  the  rest  of  the  clergy,  who  have  taken 
their  turns." 

His  next  date  is  from  Bangor,  August  1.  Those  who  are  ac- 
quainted with  the  flourishing  city  of  Bangor,  as  it  is  now,  will  hardly 
be  able  to  realize  that,  in  1837,  it  was  in  such  an  unpolished  and 
unfinished  state.  But  such  is  the  fact  ;  and  it  is  a  fact  that  goes  to 
show,  among  thousands  of  others,  the  amazing  growth  and  improve- 
ment of  our  country.  "According  to  promise,  I  proceed  to  give 
you  some  light  from  the  East.  We  left  Boston  in  the  excellent 
steamboat  Bangor,  on  Friday  afternoon  at  five  o'clock,  several  of 
our  parishioners  accompanying  us  to  the  ship.  The  whole  week 
had  been  bright  and  serene  ;  but  the  skies  were  overcast  before  we 
went  on  board.  The  passage  to  Portland  was  made  somewhat 
unpleasant  by  rain  and  rough  weather ;  but  the  Bangor  is  a  capital 
sea  boat,  and  it  did  not  prevent  our  reaching  there  by  four  o'clock 
the  next  morning,  the  usual  hour.  Thus  far  I  suffered  nothing 
from  seasickness;  but  on  the  way  from  Portland  to  Penobscot,  but 
few  of  the  passengers  were  exempt,  and  I  did  not  make  an  excep- 
tion. The  close  of  the  day,  however,  was  fair  and  bright,  and  the 
passage  up  the  river  exceedingly  beautiful.  The  scenery  reminds 
you,  in  places,  of  the  Hudson,  the  shores  being  very  bold,  but  rude 
and  more  uncultivated.  We  had  a  glimpse  of  an  Indian  encamp- 
ment in  the  woods,  and  saw  an  example  of  their  management  of 
their  canoes.  Two  amphibious  animals,  with  hats  on  their  heads, 
and  gowns,  which  made  it  difllicult  to  distinguish  their  sex,  and  a 
glittering  plate  of  metal  on  their  breasts,  were  paddling  along  with 
great  swiftness  and  dexterity,  leaped  ashore  like  cats,  shouldered 
their  canoe  as  if  it  had  been  an  egg  shell,  and  carried  it  high  and 
dry  on  the  beach.  I  mention  this  incident  because  it  was  moi'e 
novel  and  interesting  than  any  thing  I  saw,  and  belongs  to  a  class 
with  which  I  had  no  previous  acquaintance.  I  enjoyed  this  part  of 
the  sail  exceedingly,  and  felt  repaid  for  the  unpleasantness  of  the 
preceding  part  of  the  trip.  The  appearance  of  the  coast  is  very 
much  as  I  had  expected  —  innumerable  islands,  of  all  sizes,  con- 
stantly in  sight,  iron  bound  and  ever  green.  The  substratum  is 
solid  rock,  and  bristling  above  with  the  dark  verdure  of  the  fadeless 
cedar,  pine,  and  hackmatack  —  this  last  peering  above  all  the  rest, 
like  so  many  millions  of  spires  and  pinnacles.  We  reached  Bangor 
after  nine  o'clock  on  Saturday  evening,  and  landed  under  cover  of 
the  dark.  I  found  it,  in  the  morning,  a  large  place,  with  every 
mark  of  high  civilization  brought  in  close  contact  with  extreme 
rudeness.  It  is  built  on  two  clayey  hill  sides,  with  a  creek  running 
between  which  they  call  '  the  stream.'     Beautiful   houses,  furnished 


1837.]  CHRIST  ciii:rch.  205 

in  the  most  ambitious  style,  and  long  ranges  of  stores  like  those  of 
Boston.  In  the  mean  while,  the  streets,  in  many  instances,  remain 
to  be  yet  laid  out  and  graded,  and  you  have  all  the  land  before 
you  where  to  choose  your  mode  of  approach.  After  a  little  rain, 
it  is  Kobson's  choice ;  and  it  is  equal  to  Catskill  or  Hartford,  as  a 
town  of  mud.  The  church  is  glorious  for  situation,  and  perfect  in 
bt:auty.  ...  I  held  three  services  on  Sunday,  which  were  all 
attended  by  highly  respectable  congregations ;  and  I  think  there  is 
a  fine  opening  for  the  Church,  if  a  suitable  clergyman  could  be 
secured." 

He  returned  to  Boston,  after  spending  a  second  Sunday  at  Ban- 
gor, and  on  Monday,  12th  of  August,  writes  as  follows :  "  I  took 
my  leave  of  Bangor  with  all  the  impressions  which  I  had  before 
expressed  to  you.  .  .  .  From  Bangor  to  Old  Town,  the  head 
quarters  of  their  water  power  and  prosperity,  there  is  a  railioad 
running  through  some  twelve  miles  of  their  interminable  pine  for- 
ests, which  look  as  if  they  would  never  pine  away.  It  was  quite 
'  a  caution '  to  see  their  revolving  saws  cut  off"  the  pine  logs  like  a 
flash  of  hghtning,  and  making  shingles  as  fast  as  you  could  '  shake 
a  stick.'  We  rode  on  Monday  to  Augusta,  sixty-five  miles,  with 
excellent  roads,  driver,  coach,  and  horses,  and  were  carried  through 
some  scenery  that  was  surpassingly  fine.  Augusta  is  a  beautiful 
town,  more  rural  and  unsophisticated  than  Bangor.  The  Capitol 
is  a  substantial  edifice  of  solid  granite,  and  after  good  models, 
though  rather  too  short  and  narrow.  On  Tuesday  we  passed 
through  Hallowell  and  Gardiner,  along  the  Kennebeck,  to  Bruns- 
wick and  Portland,  where  we  passed  the  night.  This  day's  journey 
was  also  exceedingly  interesting.  The  next  morning  we  resutned 
our  ride,  and  reached  Portsmouth  early  in  the  afternoon. 
The  last  day  of  our  travels  was  the  pleasantest,,and  would  have 
been  under  any  circumstances,  did  it  see  me  safely  returned.  We 
rode  to  Newburyport  in  the  morning,  .  .  .  and  arrived  at 
Boston  about  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening,  and  found  all  well,  though 
I  have  since  had  but  little  cessation  from  pastoral  duty.  Yesterday 
I  preached  thrice,  attended  a  funeral,  and  administered  matrimony." 

A  painful  point  in  our  narrative  now  occurs  —  painful  inasmuch 
as  it  gives  the  first  intimation  of  some  disease  that  was  insidiously 
preying  upon  his  constitution.  There  is  nothing  of  this  intimation 
in  his  letters  ;  but  in  his  private  diary,  on  the  3Ist  of  August,  and 
in  two  repeated  instances  in  the  course  of  ten  or  fifteen  days,  he 
mentions  that  twitching  of  the  muscles  of  the  cheek  and  of  the  ci/e, 
which,  in  after  years,  caused  him  so  much  trouble  and  anxiety.  At 
the  same  time,  he  was  frequently  suffering  from  extreme  nervous 
excitement  and  violent  headache.  The  physician,  to  whom  he 
applied  for  advice,  prescribed  bathing  and  prussic  acid.     To  what 


206  MEMOIR   OF  AVILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1837. 

extent  he  employed  either  of  these  remedies,  or  with  what  effect, 
does  not  appear.  They  may  have  afforded  him  some  partial  or 
temporary  relief.  But  no  permanent  cure  was  effected ;  and  it  is 
well  known,  that,  during  his  whole  life,  he  was  subject  more  or  less 
to  similar  affections,  and  that,  for  three  or  four  years  before  his 
death,  they  proved  a  most  grievous  trial.  Not  a  doubt  can  remain, 
that  these  were  the  incipient  indications  of  that  terrible  malady, 
which,  working  gradually  and  almost  iinperceptibly  upon  his  system, 
finally  terminated,  as  in  an  instant,  his  valuable  life. 

The  following  pleasant  lines,  written  after  a  visit  to  Medfield,  and 
sent  to  Mrs.  Wheelock,  are  found  in  his  manuscript  collection :  — 


WHEELOCK   COTTAGE,  MEDFIELD. 

O,  worthy  of  the  artist's  skill, 

And  passing  fair  to  see. 
That  humble  cot  beneath  the  hill, 

That  shadowing  willow  tree ; 
The  places  where,  with  hook  and  line, 

We  dabbled  in  the  pond. 
From  morning  sun  to  hungry  dine  ; 

And  all  that  lies  beyond. 

But  who  shall  paint  the  inmate  there, 

The  pleasant  face  that  made 
The  scene  around  us  doubly  fair, 

And  sunshine  in  the  shade. 
Whose  cheerful  age,  reproving  me 

When  I  at  "  luck  "  repine, 
Seems,  in  its  soothing  harmony, 

So  like  to  "auld  lang  syne"? 

A  thousand  happy  days  and  blest 

May  Heaven  award  thee  still. 
Dear  friend,  before  thou  go  to  rest 

With  those  upon  the  hill ; 
There  mayst  thou  meet,  in  love's  embrace, 

The  friends  thou  here  hast  known, 
And  see  each  fond  familiar  face 

As  happy  as  thine  own. 


Having  made  arrangements  for  meeting  his  brother  Sherman  at 
New  Haven,  he  left  Boston  on  the  2d  of  October,  and,  takin''  the 
route  by  the  way  of  Worcester  and  Hartford,  arrived  at  liis  father's 


1837.]  CHIIIST   cnUllClI.  207 

house  on  the  3d.  The  long-anticipated  meeting  of  the  two  brothers 
was  very  much  enjoyed,  and  their  time  was  dehghtfnlly  spent  in 
visitinif  their  friends,  and  in  going  over  the  old  scenes  of  their 
boyish  days.  The  visit  included  two  Sundays,  on  each  of  which 
he  preached,  both  in  Trinity  and  St.  Paul's.  This  service  was  ren- 
dered reluctantly,  for  he  was  suffering  from  hoarseness  and  indis- 
position ;  but  his  friends  were  urgent,  and  he  was  ever  ready  to 
gratify  them,  at  almost  any  personal  sacrifice.  He  had  designed  to 
remain  for  several  days  longer ;  but,  on  the  17th,  he  was  unexpect- 
edly summoned  home,  a  case  of  pastoral  duty  requiring  his  pres- 
ence. To  calls  of  tliis  kind  he  was  not  cajjable  of  turning  a  deaf 
ear ;  and  so  he  hastened  away,  leaving  all  these  enjoyments,  to 
enter  again  upon  his  arduous  labors.  Of  these  it  is  unnecessary  to 
speak,  except  by  adding  to  the  records  of  this  month  the  following 
extract  of  a  letter,  of  October  31,  in  allusion  to  one  of  the  passing 
incidents  of  the  day:  "Early  yesterday,  I  procured  a  pass  to  admit 
me  to  the  talk  between  Governor  Everett  and  the  braves  from  the 
other  side  of  the  Mississippi,  who  are  now  our  guests,  and  who  are 
making  us,  I  fear,  their  laughing  stock  for  life.  You  will  see  in 
the  papers  the  particulars  of  the  interview,  but  no  description  can 
do  justice  to  the  reaUty.  Most  of  the  poor  creatures  have  colds 
and  other  iUriesses,  from  exposure  and  the  severity  of  the  weather. 
Some  have  finely-moulded  figures;  and  their  shoulders,  backs,  and 
arms  are  as  full,  round,  and  solid  as  so  many  pieces  of  statuary. 
Their  style  of  oratory  is  bold  and  impassioned,  and  nothing  can 
exceed  their  self-possession.  They  are  dismally  disfigured,  however, 
with  all  sorts  of  paint,  and  look  like  very  ugly  customers  to  meet 
with  in  the  greenwood  or  on  the  prairie.  We  sat  from  half  past 
twelve  to  two  waiting  for  their  apjjearance,  and  the  best  part  of  the 
day  was  spent  on  their  entertainment.  They  have  literally  turned 
the  town  topsy-turvy  since  they  have  been  here.  Men,  women,  and 
children  have  been  thronging  around  them,  at  their  lodgings,  in  the 
street,  and  during  their  public  exhibitions.  They  were  to  leave,  as 
I  understood,  to-day  for  Albany,  and  the  nuisance  will  be  abated." 

He  commences  his  next  letter,  of  November  7,  by  saying,  "This 
ought  to  be  a  very  choice  letter,  as  it  is  written  on  my  birthday." 
But  in  what  follows  a  suflScient  apology  is  furnished  for  any  short- 
comings in  this  respect  :  "  A  great  press  of  that  kind  of  pastoral 
duty  which  creates  most  anxiety,  and  wears  most  heavily  on  the 
spirits,  prevented  my  writing  yesterday.  On  Saturday  evening,  after 
burying  myself  in  my  study,  from  dark  till  ten,  I  was  sent  for  to 
visit  a  dying  child,  an  interesting  little  girl,  who  expired  before  I 
left  the  house,  soon  after  midnight.  This  was  not  a  very  good 
preparation  for  the  duties  of  communion  Sunday ;  but  I  was  carried 
through  very  comfortably,  besides  performing  the  marriage  cere- 
mony.    On   Monday   I   commenced   my   weekly   epistle,   but    was 


208  MEMOIR  OF  WILLIA:M   CROSWELL. 


[1837. 


interrupted  by  various  calls  in  the  morning,  and  attended  a  funeral 
at  noon,  accompanying  the  remains  to  Mount  Auburn." 

In  another  part  of  this  letter  he  says,  "  To-day  I  have  had  a 
hymn  to  write  for  the  opening  of  the  Lunatic  Hospital  at  Worcester  ; 
Dr.  Woodward  having  applied  to  me,  I  presume,  at  the  suggestion 
of  one  of  my  crazy  parishioners,  who  has  been  an  inmate  there. 
I  was  not  in  a  very  poetical  vein,  and  cannot  tell  till  I  have 
slept  upon  it  whether  or  not  it  will  answer  the  purpose.  If  I  find 
that  I  am  not  ashamed  of  it  in  the  morning,  I  will  send  you  a  copy." 
The  copy  was  not  sent,  but  is  found  in  his  manuscript  collection, 
and  from  thence  is  transcribed,  without  any  fear  that  his  friends 
will  be  "  ashamed  of  it." 


HYMN  FOR  THE   DEDICATION   OF  THE   HOSPITAL   CHAPEL, 

AT   WOKCESTER,    NOVEMBER    8,   1837. 

The  dearest  room  of  all  this  pile, 

A  pile  to  mercy  dear, 
Lord,  hallow  with  thy  gladdening  smile. 

And  grant  thy  presence  here. 
To  Thee  its  walls  we  set  apart, 

Who,  in  our  flesh  enshrined. 
Art  pledged  to  heal  the  broken  heart. 

And  feel  for  human  kind. 

Be  here,  our  great  perpetual  Guest, 

O  Savior,  night  and  day, 
To  give  the  heavy-laden  rest, 

And  bear  their  griefs  away. 
With  that  still  voice  that  melts  the  soul 

In  soothing  prayer  and  psalm, 
The  tumult  of  our  thoughts  control 

To  thy  divinest  calm. 

Here  tune  anew  the  jarring  sense, 

Life's  uncoiled  springs  rewind. 
And  garnish  for  thy  residence 

The  mansions  of  the  mind  ; 
Ascend,  O  Son  of  God,  thy  throne, 

Bow  reason  to  thy  sway. 
Till  m  thy  light  we  find  our  own, 

And  darkness  turn  to  day ! 


1837.]  CHRIST   CHURCH.  209 

Among  the  remaining  records  of  this  year,  nothing  requires 
special  notice,  with  the  exception  of  the  following  trihute,  inscribed 
to  the  ancient  city  where  several  years  of  his  boyhood  were  spent. 
It  is  copied  from  the  Albany  Argus,  in  which  it  was  originally 
published. 


ALBANY. 

"  Genus  unde  Latinum 

Albanique  I'Atres  atque  alt^  Maria  RomjE." 

Instinct  with  filial  love  I  come,  O  ancient  Albany  ! 

My  childhood's  faithful  nurse,  to  pay  the  tribute  due  to  thee ; 

For  in  thy  dear  domestic  haunts  I  learned  my  earliest  song, 

And  manhood's  riper  minstrelsies  to  thee  of  right  belong ! 

When,  after  many  weary  years,  again  to  thee  I  drew, 

And  suddenly  from  Greenbush  side  the  landscape  burst  to  view, 

How  thrilled  my  pulse,  bow  swelled  my  heart,  upon  that  lofty  height! 

For  never  in  my  life,  methought,  saw  I  a  fairer  sight. 

Thy  gilded  spires  and  pinnacles  rose  glittering  in  the  sun, 

And  each  familiar  edifice  I  counted  one  by  one, 

As,  row  on  row  descending  steep,  they  met  the  river  shore. 

Which,  sheathed  in  winter's  icy  mail,  with  masts  was  bristled  o'er. 

Though  sharply  blew  the  northern  wind,  so  brilliant  was  the  scene. 

So  shone  the  noble  stream  that  lay  in  glassy  bonds  between, 

I  felt  thou  wert  a  spectacle  of  stirring  power  to  see. 

And  proudly  bailed  thee  as  mine  own,  O  ancient  Albany  ! 

Yet  brighter  than  that  spectacle,  that  prospect's  fair  array. 

Or  nature  in  her  purity  that  round  about  me  lay, 

A  dearer  vision  chained  my  soul  more  touching  far  than  these. 

And  peopled  all  the  pictured  past  with  busy  memories. 

O,  let  me  in  my  weakness  give  these  childish  feelings  way. 

That  rush  upon  me  as  I  Aveave  my  humble  verse  to-day. 

Nor  wonder  if  the  spells  of  youth,  strong  as  enchantment's  chain, 

Should  bind  me  to  the  single  theme,  and  quite  absorb  the  strain. 

What  troops  of  stirring  images  my  brooding  fancy  fill, 
Oft  as  I  turn  my  glistening  gaze  to  Capitoline  Hill ! 
As  fast  they  rush  as  when,  of  yore,  with  many  a  reckless  boy, 
I  glided  down  its  dangerous  slope,  and  "  snatched  a  fearful  joy." 
Where  are  the  partners  of  those  feats,  the  striplings  one  and  all. 
Who  sat  with  me  at  Wisdom's  feet  in  old  "  Uranian  Hall," 
Ere  yet  the  genius  of  the  place  her  fostering  care  withdrew. 
To  gather  fitter  audience  there,  and  fairer  though  less  few  r 
27 


210  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM    CROSWELL.  [1837 

How  small  their  living  number  now !  how  many  in  their  grave, 
The  gallant  and  the  generous,  the  beautiful  and  brave ! 
And  hearts  are  broke  and  eyes  are  dim  which  then  with  lustre  shone, 
And  each  stands  in  the  other's  sight  unknowing  and  unknown. 
While  thus  our  cycles  sadly  pass,  and  flesh  and  blood  decay, 
How  good  to  know  that  all  we  prize  has  not  yet  passed  away ! 
That  while  earth's  generations  change,  as  years  have  come  and  gone. 
Still  Freedom's  precious  heritage  of  human  rights  lives  on ! 

Still  peers  the  selfsame  Capitol  upon  the  city's  brow, 

Though  loftier  to  my  boyhood's  eye,  yet  not  more  dear  than  now ; 

Nor  less  illustrious  on  its  rolls  its  statesmen's  glory  shines, 

True  to  their  common  country  each,  though  ranged  in  adverse  lines. 

In  democratic  majesty  again  around  me  rise 

Its  long  processions  of  the  past,  the  mighty  and  the  wise. 

The  men  of  reverend  name  who  there  discharged  their  honored  trust. 

And  filled  my  soul  with  wisdom's  words  and  sentiments  august. 

There  first  I  marked  his  high  career,  whose  early  merit  won 

The  choicest  of  his  epithets,  "the  people's  favorite  son ;" 

Who  to  the  triumph  in  the  van  led  on  the  Empire  State, 

And  now  in  highest  sphere  adorns  his  country's  consulate. 

Long  may  the  Alban  fathers  there  in  Roman  virtue  sit, 
And  tire  its  echoes  with  the  strains  of  eloquence  and  wit, 
And,  fast  emerging  from  the  cloud  and  din  of  factious  war, 
Make  our  symbolic  orb  of  day  rise  still  "  Excelsior ! " 
May  God  and  good  St.  Nicholas  maintain  our  old  renown, 
From  worthy  sire  to  worthier  son  to  be  transuiitted  down, 
And  keep  beneath  their  tutelage  till  time  shall  cease  to  be. 
The  trophies  of  thy  founders'  fame,  O  ancient  Colonic .' 


To  those  whose  memories  run  not  back  to  the  time  when  the 
foregoing  was  written,  a  word  or  two  of  exphination  may  be  neces- 
sary. The  allusion  to  the  winter  sports  of  the  boys  will  be  better 
understood  by  recurring  to  the  great  change  which  has  taken  place 
on  the  "  Capitoline  Hill,"  since  that  period,  by  the  enclosure  of  the 
beautiful  park  at  its  sununit.  Before  this,  there  was  a  regularly- 
graded  descetit  from  the  front  of  the  Capitol  down  the  whole  length 
of  State  Street,  nearly  to  the  river.  And  this  was  the  grand  scene 
of  the  "  fearful  joy  "  of  the  boys.  The  whole  descent  was  often 
covered  with  sleds,  coursing  down  amid  the  teams  and  sleighs  which 
were  constantly  passing  through  the  whole  length  of  the  street. 
The  old  "Uranian  Hall"  was  situated  in  Pearl  Street,  and  was  for 
many  years  one  of  the  principal  schools  of  the  city  ;  but  it  has 
long  since  given  place  to  one  of  the  most  celebrated  female  acade- 


1838.]  CHRIST   CHURCH.  211 

mies  in  the  country.  The  "  Colonic, "  which  was  then  a  suburb, 
and  is  now  one  of  the  wards  of  the  city,  still  belongs  in  part  to  the 
immense  estates  of  the  late  Steplien  Van  Rensselaer. 


1838. 


"  I  OPEN  the  new  date  of  A.  D.  1838,  with  my  best  wishes  that 
it  may  be  a  happy  year  to  all — to  us  that  live  and  to  those  that 
die."  Thus  does  he  commence  his  first  letter  on  the  first  day  of 
the  new  year ;  and  he  closes  the  same  letter  in  a  manner  clearly 
indicative  of  his  abiding  sense  of  the  close  connection  of  the  affairs 
of  this  life  with  the  great  responsibilities  of  eternity  :  "  I  should 
like  to  have  been  with  you  on  Christmas  day  ;  but  we  continue  to 
be  with  you  in.  spirit  as  often  as  the  day  passes,  and  when  any  thing 
of  interest  is  occurring  there  or  here.  May  God  preserve  us  in 
health  and  peace  to  meet  again  soon,  and  prepare  us  for  a  union 
in  that  eternal  state  where  there  is  no  separation  of  the  ties  that 
bind  us  together." 

Some  portions  of  this  and  other  letters,  written  during  the  month, 
relate  almost  exclusively  to  the  proceedings  of  the  Convention  of 
the  Eastern  Diocese,  which  held  a  special  session  in  Boston  at  this 
time.  In  the  transactions  of  this  Convention,  which  called  out 
much  dissension  and  party  feeling,  the  rector  of  Christ  Church,  from 
his  immediate  and  local  associations,  was  constrained  to  bear  a  part. 
But  as  he  acted  with  a  minority,  he  felt  no  responsibility  for  the 
results.  Of  these  results  it  is  unnecessary  now  to  speak.  Tliey 
are  matters  of  public  record,  and  ought  not  to  be  mingled  with  the 
personal  history  of  one  who  would  have  gladly  avoided  the  collision 
into  which  he  was  brought  on  this  occasion. 

Of  his  personal  history  one  item  here  occurs,  on  which  retrospec- 
tion is  painful.  January  8,  he  writes,  "  My  Sundays  are  getting  to 
he  a  little  more  laborious,  as  I  have  engaged  more  earnestly  in  the 
Sunday  school,  and  have  commenced  my  third  service."  In  accord- 
ance witli  this  intimation,  in  a  subsequent  letter  the  following  record 
occurs:  "I  have  to  report  three  full  services  yesterday,  with  com- 
munion, baptism  administered  at  two  several  times,  and  stirring  up 
the  Sunday  school,  and  find  my  lungs  sound  this  morning,  and  spirits 
good,  and  every  thing  to  be  thankful  for."  At  the  very  moment, 
however,  when  he  was  thus  voluntarily  and  deliberately  undertaking 
these  new  and  more  arduous  duties,  and  expressing  himself  thus 
gratefully  for  his  preservation,  he  was  actually  suflfering,  as  appears 
from  his  private  journal,  from  freciuent  attacks  of  severe  headache, 


212  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CIIOSWELL.  [1838. 

and  from  great  weariness  and  lassitude.  He  restricted  himself 
almost  habitually  to  a  plain  and  spare  diet,  and  resorted  to  such 
simple  means  of  alleviation  as  his  own  judgment  dictated  or  his 
physician  prescribed.  At  the  same  time,  his  buoyant  spirits  kept 
him  always  on  the  alert,  and  stimulated  him  to  return,  with  renewed 
ardor,  to  his  labors,  whenever  he  felt  relieved  from  any  momentary 
indisposition.  Travelling,  and  some  relaxation  of  his  labors,  were 
kindly  and  judiciously  recommended  to  him.  He  therefore  obtained 
leave  of  absence,  for  a  short  time,  on  several  occasions  during  the 
year,  visiting  his  friends  at  New  Haven  and  elsewhere,  bearing  his 
part  in  the  commencement  of  Washington  (now  Trinity)  College 
at  Hartford,  and,  in  the  autumn,  attending  as  a  clerical  delegate  the 
session  of  the  General  Convention  at  Philadelphia.  But  these 
exercises,  instead  of  affording  him  the  relief  he  so  much  needed, 
only  changed  the  scene  of  his  exertions,  and  gave  a  little  variety  to 
his  labors.  As  often  as  the  Sundays  returned,  he  was  of  course 
invited  to  preach  ;  and  his  friends,  imputing  his  objections  rather  to 
his  modesty  than  to  his  inability  to  gratify  their  desire,  generally 
prevailed  by  their  importunities ;  and  hence  he  was  seldom  or  never, 
when  abroad,  exempt  from  preaching  twice,  or  even  thrice,  on  a 
Sunday. 

But  to  return  to  a  more  pleasant  theme  ;  he  thus  greets  the 
return  of  a  festival  which  was  seldom  suffered  to  pass  without 
notice  :  "  St.  Valentine's  has  passed  me  again,  for  the  thirtieth  time 
and  more,  and  I  still  find  myself,  like  old  Herrick  in  one  of  his 
ditties,  'without  a  mate.'  I  did  not  let  him  go,  however,  without  his 
honors ;  but  as  the  article  was  bona  fide,  though  nothing  to  boast 
of,  and  inserted  in  a  young  lady's  album,  it  would  not  answer  to 
send  it  to  the  Argus.  If  the  old  saint,  whose  favor  I  have  so  long 
sought,  continues  to  cut  me  in  this  way,  I  shall  probably  cut  him 
in  return." 


VALENTINE. 


"Nee  rae  raeminisse  pigebit  Elis^e 

Dum  memor  ipse  mei,  dum  spiritus  hos  reget  artus. 
Pro  re,  pauon  1  jquar." 


No  season  this  for  leaves  and  flowers ; 

And  wandering  birds  who  seek  a  mate, 
'Mid  wintry  winds  and  snowy  showers, 

Find  all  forlorn  and  desolate. 
They  come  too  soon,  or  Spring  too  late : 

A  caution,  as  it  were,  to  nie, 
Lest  I  should  rasldy  tempt  my  fate, 

And  disap|)oint  my  destiny. 


1838.]  CHRIST   CHURCH.  213 

My  heart,  so  like  the  season,  cold, 

Has  lost  its  once  elastic  spring, 
And  warns  me  I  am  quite  too  old 

To  go  agfain  ^-phUnndenng  ;' 
And  yet,  conld  youth  replume  its  wirg. 

And  love  inspire  the  thiillingf  line. 
Not  Petrarch's  self"  such  stores  should  bring, 

To  win  thee  for  his  Valentine. 


On  the  first  Sunday  in  May,  having-  returned  from  New  Haven, 
after  an  absence  of  about  three  weeks,  he  reentered  upon  bis  duties, 
"  well,  but  weak,"  participating  in  tliree  full  services.  And  tiuis 
did  he  continue  his  labors,  week  after  week,  with  no  other  relief 
than  the  occasional  aid  of  a  visiting  or  resident  brother.  This 
assistance  was  always  welcome,  and  was  gratefully  acknowledged, 
conscious  as  he  felt,  that,  without  it,  his  duties  must  have  greatly 
overtasked  his  powers. 

At  the  Massachusetts  Convention,  which  assembled  at  Boston  on 
the  19th  of  .Tune,  be  was  "laden  witli  many  honors;"  among  these 
were  bis  election  as  president  of  the  standing  committee,  and  his 
appointment  as  one  of  the  delegates  to  the  General  Convention. 
These  honors  came  unsought,  and  were  probably  unexpected  on  bis 
part,  more  especially  the  latter.  He  was  flattered  by  the  distinc- 
tion, and  was  already  anticipating  the  gratification  of  meeting^  bis 
father  on  tlie  occasion,  and  of  spending  the  vvliole  session  in  his 
company  ;  but  the  thought  immediately  crossed  bis  mind,  that  an 
elder  brother,  tlie  Rev.  Dr.  Morss,  of  Newburyport,  who  bad  failed 
of  bis  election,  was  better  entitled  to  the  honor;  and  be  forthwith 
pi'oposed  to  relinquish  the  seat  in  favor  of  the  doctor.  The  offer 
was  received  with  the  kindest  feelings  on  the  part  of  Dr.  Morss, 
but  as  promptly  declined.  He  subsequently  writes,  therefore,  "Dr. 
Morss  declines  taking  my  seat  in  the  General  Convention,  and  it 
is  settled  that  1  go  myself." 

.Tuly  3,  the  heat  of  the  weather  being  extreme,  he  alludes,  in  bis 
letter  and  in  bis  journal,  to  the  lassitude  and  weariness  produced  by 
his  "over-work  on  the  preceding  day  of  resty  He  sought  repose 
and  refreshment  in  poetical  musings  in  the  quiet  cloisters  of  the 
church  ;  but  this  aff'orded  him  only  a  temporary  relief.  He  longed 
for  a  retreat  to  some  cooler  region.  The  Falls  of  Niagara  and  the 
White  Mountains  presented  ecjual  attractions  ;  and  he  immediately 
wrote  to  bis  brother  in  Albany,  proposing  an  excursion  to  one  or 
the  other  of  these  delightfid  places;  and,  "to  stimulate  him  with 
the  right  sort  of  sentiment  for  the  enterprise,"  he  speaks  ra|)tur(»usly 
of  the   picturesque  and  romantic   scenery  of  the  White  Mountains, 


214  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1838. 

and  calls  his  attention  to  the  following  glowing  passage  in  Howitt's 
Book  of  the  Seasons  :  "  Now  it  is  delightful  among  mountains. 
Mountains  !  how  one's  heart  leaps  up  at  the  very  word  !  There  is 
a  charm  connected  with  mountains  so  powerful,  that  the  merest 
mention  of  them,  the  merest  sketch  of  their  magnificent  features, 
kindles  the  imagination,  and  carries  the  spirit  at  once  into  the  hosom 
of  their  enchanted  regions."  But  as  this  proposed  arrangement 
failed,  his  pleasing  anticipations  were  not  realized  ;  and  he  remained 
at  his  post  until  the  latter  part  of  the  month,  when  he  made  a  short 
visit  to  New  Haven,  and  attended  the  Commencement  of  Washing- 
ton (now  Trinity)  College  at  Hartford.  He  was  absent  from  his 
parish  but  one  Sunday,  and  this  was  spent  at  New  Haven,  where,  as 
has  been  already  remarked,  he  preached  on  both  parts  of  the  day. 

The  session  of  the  General  Convention  was  held  in  Philadelphia, 
and  his  attendance  as  a  delegate  called  him  from  his  parish  from 
the  3d  to  the  22d  of  September.  Here  was  no  diminution  of  his 
labors ;  for  he  who  undertakes  to  represent  any  portion  of  the 
Church,  in  such  a  body,  must  not  hope  for  much  rest  or  relaxation. 
The  occasion,  however,  afforded  him  much  enjoyment.  He  met 
many  of  his  clerical  brethren  and  other  friends,  and  had  an  oppor- 
tunity to  form  an  acquaintance  with  the  bishops,  and  the  clerical 
and  lay  delegates,  from  all  ])arts  of  the  country,  and  passed  his  time 
very  pleasantly.  On  his  first  arrival  in  Philadelphia,  he  dropped  a 
note  to  a  friend,  which  sufficiently  explains  the  circumstances  under 
which  it  was  written  :  "St.  Andrew's  Churchyard,  September  6.  I 
arrived  a  few  moments  ago  from  Burlington.  The  doors  are  closed, 
and  not  a  soul  to  be  seen.  Wandering  about  the  yard,  and  in  the 
conference  rooms,  a  half  sheet  of  paper,  with  pen  and  ink,  seem  to 
be  a  direction  to  me  to  address  myself  to  the  duty  of  answermg 
your  last  letter.  1  recognize  the  omen.  .  .  .  The  place  in 
which  I  write  is  a  queer  one.  On  the  desks  and  seats  about  me, 
the  principal  book  is  '  Henshaw's  Collection  of  Revival  Hymns,' 
while  the  Prayer  Books  are  very  scarce.  There  is  one  on  the 
desk,  the  only  one,  1  believe,  in  the  room.  '  .Tesus  I  know,  and  Paul 
I  know;  but  who'  is  Henshaw,  that  his  Collections  should  supersede 
the  Collects  ?  " 

The  following  touching  stanzas  derive  much  of  their  interest 
from  the  peculiar  circumstances  under  which  they  were  written.  It 
was  during  the  intermission  of  the  services  of  the  Church,  on  Sun- 
day, the  12th  of  August,  while  reading  in  the  book  of  Job,  with 
Clarke's  Commentary,  that  his  attention  was  drawn  to  a  striking 
dlustration  of  the  passage,  "  Man  giveth  up  the  ghost,  and  where  is 
he  1  "  After  some  remarks  on  this  passage,  the  commentator  adds, 
«'  There  is  a  beautiful  verse  in  the  Persian  poet  Khosroo,  that  is 
not  unlike  the  saying  of  Job  :  — 


1838.]  CHRIST   CHURCH.  215 

•  I  passed  by  the  burying-place,  and  wept  sorely 
To  think  how  many  of  my  friends  were  in  the  mansions  of  the  dead. 
And  in  an  agony  of  grief  I  cried  out,  Where  are  they  ? 
And  Echo  gave  answer,  and  said,  Where  are  they  ? ' " 

This  apt  ilhistration  was  sufficient  to  awaken  his  poetic  imagi- 
nation, and  the  result  may  be  related  in  his  own  language  :  "  It 
arranged  itself,"  he  says,  "  without  any  effort  of  my  mind,  but  as 
it  were  naturally,  and  without  doing  the  least  possible  violence  to 
Clarke's  version,  as  it  stands  in  the  first  stanza  ;  and,  in  the  even- 
ing, I  added  the  second,  to  show,  by  contrast,  the  beautiful  light 
which  Christianity  sheds  upon  the  same  dreary  scene." 


NATURE  AND   REVELATION. 

IMITATED    FROM    THE    PERSIAN    OF   KHOSROO. 

I  wandered  by  the  burying-place, 

And  sorely  there  I  wept, 
To  think  how  many  of  my  friends 

Within  its  mansions  slept ; 
And,  wrung  with  bitter  grief,  I  cried 

Aloud  in  my  despair, 
"Wherk,  dear  companions,  have  ye  fled?" 

And  Echo  answered,  "Where  ?" 

While  Nature's  voice  thus  flouted  me, 

A  voice  from  heaven  replied, 
"  O,  weep  not  for  the  happy  dead, 

Who  in  the  Lord  have  died  ; 
Sweet  is  their  rest  who  sleep  in  Christ, 

Though  lost  a  while  to  thee  ; 
Tread  in  their  steps,  and  sweeter  still 

Your  meeting  hour  shall  be  ! " 


In  a  copy  of  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer,  presented  as  a 
''  gage  of  amity  "  to  his  highly-esteemed  friend.  Captain  Joseph  P. 
CouTHOUY,  who  was  on  the  eve  of  embarking  in  the  exploring 
expedition,  he  inscribed  the  following  beautiful  and  appropriate 
lines,  from  Southey's  "  Madoc  :  "  — 


216  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1838. 


THE   LITURGY. 

O,  hold  it  holy  !  it  will  be  a  bond 

Of  love  and  brotherhood,  when  all  beside 

Hath  been  dissolved ;  and  though  wide  ocean  roll 

Between  the  children  of  our  fatherland, 

This  shall  be  their  communion ;  they  shall  send, 

Linked  in  one  sacred  feeling,  at  one  hour, 

In  the  same  language,  the  same  prayer  to  Heaven, 

And  each  remembering  each  in  piety, 

Pray  for  the  other's  welfare  ! " 


To  this  the  following-  original,  and   no   less  beautiful.  Sonnet  was 
returned  in  reply  :  — 


TO   REV.  WILLIAM   CROSWELL. 

Whether  I  sail  beneath  ungenial  skies. 

Through  glacial  seas,  or  'mid  those  gorgeous  isles 
That  image  forth  man's  forfeit  paradise. 

By  fragrant  Ind,  where  ceaseless  summer  smiles, 
O  friend  beloved !  thy  "  gage  of  amity  " 
A  sacred  monitor  shall  ever  be  ; 

And  often  as  its  holy  lines  are  scanned, 
As  exiled  thus  from  home  and  love  I  stray, 

In  heart  revisiting  that  fatherland 
Where,  thronging  up  on  each  glad  "  holy  day," 

Of  Christian  friends  a  dear  familiar  band 
Meet  in  one  ancient  fane,  their  vows  to  pay  — 
To  the  all-hearing  One  my  lonely  prayer 
For  thee  and  thine  shall  rise  with  those  ascending  there  ! 

J.  P.  C. 

These  were  communicated  to  his  father,  with  permission  to 
publish  them  in  the  Chronicle  of  the  Church  ;  and  in  a  subsequent 
letter,  after  speaking  of  Captain  Couthouy  in  the  most  aflfectionate 
terms,  as  an  intimate  friend  and  parishioner,  who,  being  attached 
to  the  scientific  corps  of  the  exploring  expedition,  had  just  left  for 
Norfolk,  where  he  was  to  embark,  he  adds,  "  He  will  be  a  regular 
correspondent  while  he  is  absent ;  and  I  shall  feel  a  peculiar  interest 
in  their  progress  on  his  account."  The  biographer  has  in  his 
possession  the  principal  part  of  the  correspondence  which  passed 
between  the  two  friends,  not  only  at  tliis  time,  but  during  several 


1838.]  CHRIST   CHUIICH.  217 

subse(|iioiit  years,  until  deatli  dissolved  the  earthly  tie,  which  had 
been  so  wanuly  and  nnitnally  cherished.  And  he  will  feel  justified 
in  availing  himself  of  the  privilege  of  interweaving  with  liis  narra- 
tive some  portions  of  this  correspondence.  And  perhaps  a  more 
appropriate  place  or  occasion  for  transcribing  one  short  extract 
cannot  be  chosen  than  the  present.  Writing  to  his  father,  Novem- 
ber 12,  he  says,  "  I  have  just  heard  from  my  near  and  dear  friend 
CouTHOUY,  attached  to  the  exploring  expedition,  dated  Madeira, 
September  16.  He  writes  in  good  health  and  spirits.  With  some 
of  his  messmates,  he  had  performed  the  service  in  the  state  room, 
the  weather  not  admitting  of  prayers  on  deck,  with  all  the  chants 
in  due  form.  '  Fox,'  says  he,  '  plays  a  good  flute,  and  we  made 
quite  a  decent  choir.  I  have  heard  perfurmances  often,  in  a  church 
we  wot  of,  not  much  superior.  We  had  a  very  delightful  time  ; 
and  never  did  I  feel  more  strongly  what  a  bond  of  fellowship  our 
incomparable  liturgy  is,  to  those  familiar  with  its  wholesome  and 
comfortable  words.  We  ceased  to  be  strangers  from  the  moment 
that  we  discovered,  by  a  sort  of  free-masonry,  that  we  were  children 
of  the  same  beloved  mother.  If  such  fellowship  is  a  privilege  on 
shore,  what  a  blessing  is  it,  cut  off  as  we  are  from  the  enjoyment 
of  the  ordinary  means  of  grace,  to  be  able  thus  to  take  sweet  counsel 
together,  and  recall  the  time  when  we  went  forth  with  the  multi- 
tude, in  the  voice  of  praise  and  thanksgiving,  among  such  as  keep 
holy  day  ! ' " 

To  this  letter  he  replied,  under  the  date  of  the  "cloisters  of 
Cripplegate,  November  10 ; "  and  after  touching  on  a  variety  of 
topics,  he  says,  "  It  gives  me  the  truest  pleasure,  my  dear  friend,  to 
see  your  religious  affections  in  such  warm  and  vigorous  exercise, 
and  your  heart,  as  ever,  in  the  right  place.  May  it  ever  be  so ; 
nor  can  I  doubt  that  He  who  hath  begun  a  good  vV'ork  in  you  will 
continue  it  unto  the  end.  Your  accounts  of  your  Sundays  have 
especially  interested  me  ;  and  I  rejoice  to  know  that  you  carry  the 
Church  so  closely  with  you."  He  here  conunences  the  citation  of 
one  of  Keble's  beautiful  hymns,  but  immediately  adds,  "  I  must  not 
fill  my  page  with  Keble,  however  more  valuable  than  any  thing 
which  I  can  write,  while  you  have  his  inestimable  volume  at  hand, 
and  can  take  up  the  passage  where  I  leave  it.  In  the  cherished 
fellowship  of  those  common  devotions,  let  us  not  fail  often  to  meet 
each  other  before  the  mercy  seat,  with  an  affection  which  distance 
cannot  impair,  time  camiot  change,  nor  even  antarctic  region  chilL" 

Again,  on  "All  Saints,"  he  writes,  "I  find  myself  often  fingering 
my  old  globe,  to  endeavor  to  identify  the  spot  where  you  were  said 
to  be  floating;  and  we  bring  you  near  in  spirit,  walking  by  faith, 
and  not  by  sight.  I  hope  you  are  by  this  time  in  full  nightly  view 
of  the  glorious  Southern  Cross.  May  you  conquer  in  that  sign. 
Where  this  will  reach  you  is  more  than  I  can  conjecture  ;  but  it  is 
28 


•218  MEMOIR    OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1838, 

a  comfort  to  know  that  you  will  still  be,  witii  us,  under  the  hollow 
of  that  almighty  Hand,  who  is  the  hope  of  all  the  ends  of  the  earth, 
and  of  those  that  remain  in  the  broad  sea." 

Two  very  interesting  letters  from  this  highly-valued  correspondent 
may  here  be  noted  ;  the  one  commenced  on  board  tl)e  U.  S.  ship 
Vincennes,  Sunday,  November  11,  and  finished  at  Rio  de  Janeiro, 
November  25;  and  the  other  dated  at  the  latter  place,  on  Christmas 
Eve.  These  letters  are  chiefly  filled  with  details  of  scientific  dis- 
coveries, and  with  matters  of  a  private,  domestic,  or  familiar  nature  ; 
but  there  are  a  few  sketches  of  religious  incidents,  which  may  with 
propriety -be  transcribed.  In  his  first  letter  he  says,  "We  had  ser- 
vice this  morning,  and  a  sermon  from  our  Lord's  rebuke  to  Martha, 
Luke  X.  42.  We  have  only  three  besides  myself  to  join  in  the 
responses,  but  we  all  sit  together ;  and  as  I  closed  my  eyes,  and 
listened  to  the  solemn  and  comforting  language  of  our  Common 
Prayer,  (it  is  sweet  to  think  that  it  is  common,)  it  would  not  have 
been  difficult  to  imagine  myself  worshipping  in  our  ancient  temple, 
with  the  voice  of  '  mine  own  familiar  friend '  sounding  in  my  ears." 
From  Rio  de  .Taneiro,  November  25,  he  says,  "  To-day,  being  St. 
Cecilia's  day,  there  was  a  high  celebration  at  the  church  of  her 
name,  which  I  attended.  The  church  itself  is  a  fine  one,  and,  on 
this  occasion,  was  more  than  usually  imposing  in  its  appearance,  &c. 
Upon  the  grand  altar,  which  was  resplendent  in  gold  and  jewels, 
there  were  seven  rows  of  wax  lights  arranged  pyramidally,  and 
about  one  hundred  and  twenty  in  number,  some  of  them  ten  or 
twelve  feet  in  height.  A  large  number  of  priests  officiated  at  high 
mass,  all  in  the  rich  dresses  appointed  for  festivals,  which,  as  usual, 
were  changed  several  times  during  the  service.  This  part  of  the 
ceremony,  however,  had  but  little  interest  for  me,  having  seen  it 
repeatedly  abroad,  and  because  it  always  has  a  theatrical  aspect. 
But  the  music  !  you  should  have  heard  that.  It  was  superb.  I 
thought  it  fine  during  mass  ;  but  afl;erwards,  the  choir  performed 
the  whole  of  the  Messiah.  I  was  completely  carried  away.  I 
can  only  say,  that  if  St.  Cecilia  could  hear  such  strains,  and  envy 
could  enter  her  celestial  abode,  she  would  throw  her  harp  aside. 
My  enjoyment  was  considerably  marred,  however,  by  the  uproar  in 
front  of  the  church,  where  they  had  tar  barrels  burning,  the  smoke 
of  which  swept  in,  defiling  with  its  Cimmerian  steam  the  sanctuary 
where  clouds  of  incense  were  floating  up  before  the  altar  !  Then 
there  was  a  continual  roar  of  musketry,  squibs,  &c.,  and,  every  now 
and  then,  the  boom  of  cannon,  sounds  of  icar  and  tumult,  strangely 
blending  with  the  angelic  harmony  which,  within,  accompanied  the 
praises  of  Him  who  was  the  Prince  of  Peace.  And  this  is  Romish 
devotion.  Surely  'darkness  hath  covered  the  earth,  and  gross  dark- 
ness the  people.'"  Again,  in  his  letter  of  Christmas  Eve,  he  writes, 
"  Yesterday  1  visited  several  of  the  churches  a  second  time.     They 


1838.]  CHRIST  CHURCH.  219 

have  most  of  tliem  a  venerable  and  imposing  aspect  externally,  being 
built  of  a  dark  gray  stone.  The  interior  of  one  or  two  is  very 
chaste  and  beautiful ;  but  the  greater  part  are  tawdry  and  tbeatri- 
cal.  One  that  j)leased  me  very  much  had  been  pointed  out  to  me 
as  the  Imperial  Chapel,  but,  as  I  have  since  ascertained,  incorrectly. 
I  visited  the  latter  yesterday.  It  is  about  the  size  of  our  church, 
the  floor  laid  with  rough  boards,  while  the  area  in  front  (on  enter- 
ing which,  all  uncover  their  heads)  is  paved  with  marble.  The 
walls  are  painted  white,  and  gilt  abundantly.  The  roof  is  supported 
by  spiral  or  twisted  pillars,  the  flutings  of  which  are  gilt ;  and  the 
whole  of  the  chancel  is  richly  gilt  and  decorated  with  paintings  in 
fresco.  Between  the  pillars  are  shrines  containing  images  of  sev- 
eral saints,  before  which  were  burning  large  candles,  in  massy  ten- 
branched  silver  candlesticks.  Think  of  a  coarse  wooden  image  of 
the  Virgin  Mary,  rigged  up  in  an  old  dusty  and  faded  green  and 
crimson  silk  robe,  with  silver  halo  stuck  round  her  head,  broad  and 
flat,  like  the  rim  of  a  Shaker's  hat,  and  dandling  a  little  naked  wax 
doll  in  her  arms,  on  which  she  looks  as  ferociously  as  some  old 
portraits  I  have  seen,  gazing  at  the  nosegays  in  their  hands.  I  have 
seen  these  things  before,  but  never  was  so  struck  with  them  as  now. 
It  is  hard  to  say  whether  the  prevailing  feeling  is  a  sense  of  the 
ludicrous  or  the  impious.  These  are  the  disagreeable  points  hi 
Roman  Catholic  churches.  To  go  on  with  the  Imperial  Chapel : 
The  intervals  between  the  pillars  are  filled  by  crimson  damask 
hangings,  extending  from  the  roof  to  the  floor,  which  must  have 
had  a  very  gorgeous  appearance  when  new,  but  now  remind  me 
by  resemblance  of  an  old  curtain  in  another  church  far  away. 
There  are  two  pulpits,  one  on  each  side  of  the  chancel,  and  just 
above  them  are  two  small  niches  in  the  wall,  for  the  imperial  fam 
ily,  much  like  the  stage  boxes  in  a  theatre.  There  are  no  pews  in 
any  of  the  churches  here,  no  chance  for  a  comfortable  nap  during 
the  sermon.  All  have  to  stand  where  they  best  can,  and  kneel  on 
the  bare  floor.  It  has  certainly  a  very  devotional  eflfect  to  enter 
one,  at  other  than  service  hours,  and  see  here  and  there  a  person 
kneeling  in  jirayer,  amid  the  stillness  and  '  dim  religious  light ' 
pervading  the  place,  with  no  one  but  the  Hearer  of  prayer  to  witness 
their  worshipping.  Another  thing,  which  struck  me  very  forcibly, 
was  the  total  disregard  of  rank  or  station  manifested  in  these 
churches.  The  rich  and  poor,  the  noble  born  and  the  poor  slave, 
meet  there  on  a  footing  of  perfect  equality  before  the  common 
Father  of  all,  whicli,  in  our  republican  country,  would  not  be  toler- 
ated for  a  moment.  I  have  seen  the  field  ofllicer,  in  his  gorgeous 
uniform,  enter  and  kneel  by  the  side  of  the  half-naked  slave,  with- 
out the  one  dreaming  of  changing  his  position,  or  the  other  deeinijig 
himself  at  all  entitled  to  precedence  or  notice,  in  the  temple  of  Ilim 
in  whose  sight  all  flesh  is  vile.      Tiiis  is   as  it   should  be  ;   and  we 


220  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CIIOSWELL.  [1838. 

might,  in  our  favored  land,  well  learn  from  them  the  lesson  it 
teaches.  I  have  been  much  struck  with  the  perfect  equality  vvliich 
exists  here  between  the  free  blacks  and  the  whites.  There  are 
black  doctors,  black  lawyers,  black  priests,  black  jjenerals,  and,  to 
make  the  resemblance  complete,  black  devils.  Midnight  has  just 
struck  ;  the  people  outside  are  firing  guns  and  squibs,  and  illumi- 
nating as  we  shoidd  for  the  '  glorious  fourth.'  The  two  towers  of 
'Our  Lady  of  the  Chandeliers'  (Nossa  Senhora  dos  Candelabros) 
are  hung  from  top  to  bottom  with  thousands  of  little  lamps,  which 
produce  a  most  beautiful  effect.  I  wish  you,  my  dear  friend,  a 
merry  Christmas." 

April  39,  while  on  his  visit  to  New  Haven,  he  writes  to  his  friend 
CouTHOUY,  giving  an  amusing  account  of  his  visit  to  the  halls  of 
the  Yale  Natural  History  Society,  and  expressing  his  usual  gratifi- 
cation amid  the  scenes  of  his  home.  He  adds,  however,  "  In  sober 
earnest,  my  heart  begins  to  yearn  towards  the  spot  where  my  high- 
est duties  lie.  I  long  to  be  with  you  in  those  beloved  precincts  to 
which  our  sweet  chimes  invite,  and  around  which  so  many  sacred 
associations  cluster.  There  the  memory  and  the  imagination  most 
delight  to  dwell.  There  may  we  keep  holy  day  together,  my  dear 
friend,  and  unite  in  the  pleasant  feasts  of  remembrance.  My  days 
pass  delightfully  here  indeed,  but  idly  and  monotonously.  Sundays 
are  indeed  an  exception,  when  I  do  some  violence  to  my  feelings  by 
preaching  in  the  synagogue  where  I  was  brought  up,  and  where  a 
prophet  is  apt  least  of  all  to  be  had  in  honor.  Still  it  affords  my 
father  a  relief,  and  others  an  apparent  satisfaction,  which  make  it 
contribute  indirectly  to  my  own."  He  concludes  with  the  following 
narration  :  "  My  stay  has  been  enlivened  by  the  celebration  of  the 
two  hujulredth  anniversary  of  the  landing  of  our  fathers.  The 
incense,  in  its  usual  quantity,  was  burnt  at  the  shrine  of  the  pilgrim 
saints,  more  than  enough  to  make  St.  Patrick  or  any  of  the  Roman 
canonization  blush.  .  .  .  No  Quakers  were  hung  in  effigy; 
and  the  orator  was  in  keeping  with  the  stereotyped  representations 
with  which  we  are  so  familiar  at  the  east.  I  should  like  to  have 
had  him  taken  a  few  hints  from  a  certain  sermon  delivered  in  our 
church  by  Bishop  Griswold,  from  the  text,  '  Cause  them  to  know 
the  abominations  of  their  fathers ; '  in  which  the  old  gentleman 
exhibited  a  good  deal  of  the  stern  spirit  of  Ezekiel.  A  younger 
brother  of  mine  pencilled  down  on  the  margin  of  the  printed  stanzas 
(to  the  tune  of  God  save  the  King)  the  following  terse  addition, 
which  was  not  performed  by  the  choir :  — 

'  They  through  their  noses  sung, 
And  sundry  Quakers  hung, 
And  Baptists  too ; 


1838.1  CIIKIST   CHURCH.  221 

They  spilled  the  Indians'  hlood, 
And,  for  their  poor  souls'  good, 
They  drowned  them  in  the  flood 
Without  ado.' 

"  Judging  from  the  effects  of  the  last  two  centuries,  how  many 
more  centuries  may  be  expected  to  elapse  before  tlieir  strong  marks 
upon  our  character  shall  be  quite  obliterated  ? " 

August  25,  in  a  letter  to  Rev.  Dr.  Strong,  he  says,  "  At  the  last 
meeting  of  tiie  Board  of  State  Missions,  the  clerical  members  were 
appointed  agents  to  visit  all  the  parishes  in  the  state,  with  a  view 
of  awakening  a  more  general  interest  in  its  objects,  and  of  ascer- 
taining by  personal  inquiry  the  prospect  of  the  parishes  receiving  or 
requiring  aid.  The  whole  west  was  assigned  to  me.  ...  I 
desire,  before  entering  on  this  field,  to  confer  with  the  clergy  and 
leading  men  of  those  parts,  as  to  the  desirableness  or  expediency 
of  such  an  agency.  It  appears  to  me  that  an  agent  with  such 
powers  must  trench  very  materially  on  the  prerogatives  of  the 
bishop.  .  .  .  Every  clergyman  should  be  an  agent,  each  in  his 
own  parish ;  and  I  have  been  so  much  in  the  habit  of  thinking  that 
we  need  no  other,  that  I  fear  1  should  not  enter  sufficiently  into  the 
spirit  of  the  work  which  has  been  assigned  to  me.  Of  this,  how- 
ever, we  can  speak  when  we  meet  face  to  face."  At  a  later  date, 
he  says,  "  I  am  reluctantly  obliged  to  give  up  the  western  expediticm. 
Brother  Ballard  expressed  my  own  opinion  when  he  observed,  that 
though  he  should  be  happy  to  see  me  among  them,  yet  he  thought 
that  every  clergyman  was  the  best  and  cheapest  agent  in  his  own 
parish." 

It  appears  from  his  letters,  that,  in  the  early  part  of  this  year, 
he  promised  his  friend  Chapin,  the  editor  of  the  Chronicle  of  the 
Church,  to  furnish  him  from  week  to  week  with  a  simple,  and  as 
nearly  as  possible  literal,  version  of  the  Psalms  of  David.  He 
proceeded  in  this  undertaking  as  far  as  the  eighth  Psalm.  Partly, 
however,  on  account  of  the  errors  of  the  press,  but  chiefly  from 
other  causes,  he  abandoned  the  plan,  remarking,  in  a  letter  to  his 
father,  "I  have  no  doubt  that  I  should  be  more  at  home  in  a  metri- 
cal arrangement.  I  may  try  some  day,  just  for  my  own  solace. 
But  I  shall  not  print  any  thing  of  that  kind  ;  nor  do  I  aspire  to  get 
up  any  thing  to  be  used  in  churches,  lest  I  should  bring  myself 
under  the  scourge  of  the  epigram  ;  — 

'  Sternhold  gave  pious  people  qualms, 
When  he  translated  David's  Psalms : 
But  how  much  worse,  alas  !  our  fate, 
To  hear  them  sing  what  you  translate ! ' " 


222  MEMOni   OF   WIIJJAM   CROSWELL.  [1838. 

Again,  he  writes,  "I  liave  almost  made  up  my  mind  to  the  pre- 
sumptuous and  daring  attempt,  in  which  so  many  of  the  best  have 
failed,  of  giving*  a  close  and  simple  version  of  the  Psalms  in  metre. 
[  shall  not,  however,  do  so  with  any  idea  of  publishing  at  present, 
but  chiefly  to  imbue  my  own  mind  with  more  of  the  spirit  of  the 
inspired  Psalmist.  I  am  surprised,  ou  examination  of  the  English 
translati(ms,  to  find  them  so  bald  on  the  one  hand,  and  so  loose  and 
parajiln-astic  on  the  othef."  How  far  this  purpose  was  carried  out 
is  not  known.  A  few  specimens  only  are  to  be  found,  either  in 
print   or  in  manuscript,  and  these  will  be  introduced  into  this  work. 

The  following  communication,  which  he  sent  for  publication  in 
the  Chronicle  of  July  20,  is  a  just,  though  severe  criticism  on  a 
new  "  Red-Letter  Edition  of  the  Prayer  Book,"  which  had  then 
but  just  appeared.  It  is  here  transcribed  entire,  with  an  original 
inscription  appended  as  a  note  :  — 

"  From  the  long  advertisement  in  your  paper,  I  was  led,  per- 
haps, to  form  too  high  expectations  with  regard  to  the  edition  of 
the  Book  of  Common  Prayer  with  the  red  rubrics.  Certain  it  is 
that  I  have  been  greatly  disappointed.  The  enterprise,  as  first 
announced,  was  much  to  my  taste,  as  I  had  long  been  of  the  mind 
of  Chaucer's  '  Clerk  of  Oxenford,'  '  who  had  rather  have  at  his 
bed's  hedde  twenty  bookes  in  black  and  red,  than  robes  rich,  fiddle,  or 
salterie.'  I  have  seen  manuscript  missals,  '  on  rich  creamy  vellum,' 
more  than  four  hundred  years  old,  whose  gorgeous  vermilion  dyes, 
and  glossy  raven  black,  were  fresh  and  bright  as  if  they  were  exe- 
cuted but  yesterday.  Volumes  of  rare  beauty  are  now  around  me, 
printed  before  the  time  of  the  Reformation,  whose  unfaded  red  letter 
puts  to  shame  the  blurred  and  diluted  tints  of  this  boasted  '  topo- 
graphical novelty.'*  It  is  impossible,  indeed,  for  the  slender  Italian 
letter  to  produce  the  same  eft'ect  with  the  broad  surface  of  the 
beautiful  old  English  type  ;  and  in  this  respect,  as  well  as  in  those 
of  paper,  ink,  and  arrangement,  our  modern  publishers  might  take 
lessons  of  the  first  fathers  of  the  art.  ...  If  Knight's  splen- 
did   pictorial   Prayer    Book,   now  in   the    course    of  publication   in 


*  On  tlie  leaf  of  an  old  Hebrew  Bible,  executed  in  much  the  same  style,  is 
the  following  inscription :  — 

Open  now  the  Hebrew  page, 

Sleek  and  glossy  spite  of  age ; 

Unsophisticated  text, 

By  no  Masorite  perplext ; 

"Where  each  character  you  see 

In  its  stern  simplicity, 

Upright,  racy,  square,  and  bold, 

Symbol  of  the  truth  they  hold. 

As  the  eye  delights  to  track, 

RoAv  by  roAv,  the  letters  black, 

Say,  is  not  each  martial  line 

"Worthy  of  the  "Word  divine  ?  W.  C. 


1838.1  CHRIST   CHURCH.  223 

Englaiifl,  were  but  printed  in  black  letter,  with  tlie  rubrics  blushing 
out  between,  and  bound  in  embroidered  velvet,  with  silver  clasps 
and  corners,  and  sets  of  many-colored  ribbons,  it  would  be  indeed 
a  jewel  of  a  book.  My  disappointment  with  regard  to  the  American 
volume  is  iKJt,  of  course,  because  it  does  not  realize  this  hrau  ideal, 
but  because  it  entirely  fails  in  the  great  purpose  for  which  it  was 
intended,  viz.,  to  insure  the  rubrics  hciiig  well  red  !  In  their  present 
faint,  dim,  and  watery  lineaments,  'they  lead  to  bewilder,  glimmer 
to  betray.'  I  hope  that  this  error  will  be  corrected  in  the  next 
edition,  that  a  better  color  will  be  put  upon  the  rubrics,  and  that 
they  will  yet  shine  out 

'  In  goodly  verniil  stain, 

Like  crimson  dyed  in  grain.' " 

It  is  pleasant  to  record  the  following  acknowledgment,  which  is 
found  in  a  letter  to  his  father,  November  27 :  "  The  Rev,  Mr.  Price 
sent  me  a  token  of  his  brotherly  regard,  last  week,  which  I  have 
great  reason  to  value  on  every  account,  being  a  small  leather  case, 
containing  a  miniature  communion  service  of  silver,  manufactured 
in  England,  for  administering  the  Lord's  supper  to  the  sick.  If 
they  have  any  fault,  they  are  a  little  too  much  in  petto,  and  might 
be  mistaken  by  the  profane  for  playthings.  Accompanying  this  was 
a  copy  of  the  new  quarto  edition  of  the  Miles  Coverdale  Bible, 
(1535,)  just  published  in  England,  and  intended  to  be  a  fac  simile 
of  the  original,  page  for  page,  &c.  To  the  theological  antiquarian 
it  is  almost  inestimable." 

The  following  anecdote  of  the  elder  John  Adams,  noted  in  his 
journal,  may  be  original.  It  was  related  to  him  by^  Major  Russell. 
When  the  bust  of  Mr.  Adams  was  put  up  in  Faneuil  Hall,  the  old 
gentleman  pronounced  it  a  very  good  likeness,  but  thought  it  rather 
ugly.  He  contra.sted  his  own  face  with  that  of  Washington,  and 
ttbserved  that  Washington  had  one  feature  to  which  he  owed  his 
ascendency  :   "Mouth  shut  close — mine  always  open." 

Early  in  December,  having  made  a  short  visit  to  New  Haven,  he 
writes  from  New  York,  while  on  his  return  home,  giving  a  minute 
account  of  a  private  musical  entertainment,  at  which  Dr.  Hodges 
presided,  and  during  which  a  considerable  part  of  the  English 
cathedral  service  was  performed.  Dr.  Wainwright  officiating  as 
clergyman.  Of  this  performance  he  says,  "  It  quite  transported  me 
for  the  time  to  the  '  high-embowered  roof,'  and  the  rest  of  the  scene 
described  by  Mihon.  The  music  alone  would  have  been  worth  the 
journey,  and  I  feel  as  if  I  had  been  very  much  favored  in  being 
here  at  the  time."     He  adds  the  following  :   "  Dr.  Hodges  told  a 


224  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROS^YELL.  [1838. 

good  story  of  Adam  Clark,  that,  after  preaching  on  some  famous 
charity  occasion,  for  which  very  great  musical  preparations  had 
been  made,  he  closed  by  observing,  «  The  elders  of  the  congregation 
will  now  please  to  pass  about  the  plate,  while  our  friends  in  the  gal- 
lery will  AMUSE  THEMSELVES  by  singing  an  anthem!^" 

On  the  following  day,  having  arrived  at  Boston,  he  duly  acknowl- 
edges "  the  hand  of  God's  good  providence,  by  which  he  had  been 
safely  led,  on  his  going  out  and  coming  in." 

Writing  again  on  the  17th  of  December,  he  says,  "  I  found,  on 
attempting  the  services  yesterday,  that  I  had  a  little  cold ;  but  it  did 
not  prevent  me  from  preaching  three  times,  attending  Sunday  school 
examination,  and  baptizing  a  child,  besides  drilling  my  choir  in  their 
Christmas  music.  Every  thing  looks  well  about  the  old  church,  and 
a  good  spirit  prevails.  Nothing  could  be  pleas^nter  than  the  sweet, 
rich  chime  of  its  morning  bells.  .  .  .  Our  singing  is  getting 
to  be  a  very  model  of  simplicity  and  good  taste.  We  attempt 
nothing  but  what  is  familiar  as  household  words,  and  the  whole 
church  grows  vocal  as  with  the  song  of  birds.  On  Christmas,  we 
shall  not  allow  our  friends  in  the  gcdlery  to  amuse  themselves  with  a 
single  anthem^ 

He  did  not  write  again  till  Friday  of  the  following  week,  Decem- 
ber 2S,  and  the  reason  is  thus  given  :  "  The  fact  that  we  had  no 
Monday  this  week,  [Christmas  fell  on  Monday,]  though  it  did  not 
affect  my  sensibilities  as  to  the  duty  of  writing,  did  greatly  interfere 
with  the  power  of  carrying  the  duty  into  execution.  I  believe  I 
wrote  you  last  on  Monday  week,  and  gave  you  a  good  account  of 
my  health  and  performances.  I  could  not  have  written  as  much 
the  next  day,  if  indeed  I  could  have  written  at  all.  The  latent 
seeds  of  a  cold,  probably  contracted  by  the  fatigue  and  exposure  of 
my  journey,  broke  out  on  Monday  night  into  most  abundant  fruit, 
and  1  was  scarcely  able  to  keep  about  for  a  day  or  two."  He 
recruited,  however,  and  adds,  "  I  was  able  to  get  ready  for  the 
confirmation.  On  Sunday  I  baptized  five  adults  and  five  children, 
officiated  all  day,  and  presented  thirteen  candidates  for  confirmation 
at  evening.  The  services  awakened  great  interest,  and  the  tone  of 
religious  feeling  which  pervades  the  parish  is  very  encouraging." 
The  next  day,  being  Christmas,  "was,"  he  says,  "a  glorious  day, 
and  every  body  seemed  to  enjoy  it  greatly.  All  our  churches  were 
crowded,  our  own  particularly." 

The  record  of  the  present  year  closes  as  it  opened,  in  the  same 
devout  and  humble  spirit.  Dating  on  the  last  of  December,  he  says, 
"  Annus  Domini  1838  takes  his  leave  of  us  with  great  serenity. 
The  review  of  the  past,  of  course,  is  calculated  to  give  rise 
to  mingled  feelings,  in  which  shame,  and  .pain,  and  mortification 
have  their  share.  Still  I  am  not  sure  that  the  last  has  not  been  one 
of  the  happiest  years  of  my  life,  inasmuch  as  my  quiet  and  contern- 


1830.]  CHRIST   CHURCH.  225 

plative  habits  have  been  less  disturbed,  the  nature  of  the  interior  Ufe 
bas  been  more  developed  to  my  mind,  and  some  little  progress,  I 
trust,  by  the  divine  grace,  made  on  the  way  to  the  lieavenly  Zion. 
By  the  same  grace,  I  hope  to  be  able  to  give  a  better  account  of 
myself,  both  in  temporals  and  spirituals,  should  my  life  be  spared 
yet  another  year." 

He  does  not  conclude,  however,  without  indulging  in  a  little 
stroke  of  pleasantry.  Among  his  Christmas  and  New  Year's 
presents,  he  had  received  from  a  fair  friend  a  magnificent  bronze 
standish,  "  which,"  he  says,  "  from  its  constant  use,  cannot  fail  to 
keep  her  pleasant  remembrance  before  me.  I  wish  I  could  hope 
that  my  sermons  might  be  any  the  better  for  it ;  but  it  is  too  true, 
as  Swift  says, — 

'  That  not  the  desk  of  silver  nails. 
Nor  bureau  of  expense. 
Nor  standish  well  japanned,  avails 
To  writing  of  good  sense.' " 


1839. 


There  are  but  few  incidents  to  distinguish  this  from  the  preced- 
ing year.  He  was  seldom  absent  from  his  parish,  and  day  after 
day  brought  the  same  monotonous  call  for  labor.  From  the  extent 
and  variety  of  his  occupations,  he  was  allowed  but  few  hours  for 
repose ;  and  even  these  hours,  as  appears  from  his  journal,  were 
often  disturbed  by  severe  headache  and  nervous  restlessness.  He 
indeed  found  time,  though  this  time  was  but  too  often  borrowed 
from  the  moments  which  ought  to  have  been  devoted  to  rest,  to 
carry  on,  as  heretofore,  an  extensive  correspondence.  His  weekly 
letters  to  his  father  and  family  friends,  however,  were  at  this  period 
more  brief  and  sketchy  than  usual,  and  were  chiefly  confined  to 
private  and  domestic  concerns.  But  he  also  kept  up,  in  the  mean 
time,  as  regular  an  interchange  of  letters  with  other  correspondents, 
and  especially  his  friend  Couthouy,  as  the  distance  by  which  they 
were  separated,  and  the  difficulty  of  securing  a  safe  conveyance, 
would  permit.  From  these  letters  might  be  drawn,  were  it  deemed 
expedient,  many  passages  of  deep  and  affecting  interest ;  but  the 
biographer  must  lay  an  unwilling  restraint  upon  his  inclination,  and 
content  himself  with  a  very  few  extracts,  merely  as  specimens  of 
the  pleasant  and  familiar  style  in  which  these  devoted  friends  con- 
ducted their  correspondence.  On  both  sides,  the  letters  bear  a 
29 


226  MEMOIR  OF  ^^^LLLUI   CROSWELL.  [1839 

strong  impress  of  the  character  of  the  writers.  The  pleasant  nar- 
ratives, the  thrilUng  adventures,  and  the  scientific  details  of  the 
absent  professor,  are  all  mingled  up  with  the  most  heart-touching 
reminiscences  of  his  distant  home,  and  of  the  church  in  which  he 
had  been  for  years  a  most  devout  and  exemplary  worshipper  and  a 
worthy  communicant ;  while  the  resident  pastor,  besides  responding 
with  the  kindest  sympathy  to  every  sentiment  of  piety  and  devotion 
of  his  absent  friend,  enlivens  every  sheet  with  those  characteristic 
traits  for  which  his  familiar  epistles  were  always  remarkable.  But 
he  must  be  permitted  to  speak  for  himself.  Writing  on  the  9th  of 
February,  after  speaking  of  his  frequent  communications,  and  ex- 
pressing a  fear  of  their  want  of  interest,  he  says,  "It  is  a  comfort  to 
know  that  you  will  attach  to  them  all  tlie  value  which  they  deserve. 
According  to  the  Latin  verse,  they  whose  course  is  over  the  sea 
change  their  hemisphere,  but  not  their  hearts.  There  will  be  always 
something  of  yours  which  does  not  '  suffer  a  sea  change ; '  so  we 
believe,  and  we  scribble  on,  in  the  confidence  that  it  will  throb 
with  a  true  Yankee  sympathy  at  the  sight  of  any  messenger  from 
this  cold  and  cloudy  clime.  .  .  .  It  is  now  deep  into  the  night ; 
and  being  sentimentally  inclined,  I  call  to  mind  a  passage  of  Words- 
worth, so  aptly  adapted  to  our  relative  positions,  that  I  cannot  for- 
bear transcribing  it,  with  sundry  accommodations,  for  your  benefit. 
You  will  read  it,  I  have  no  doubt,  with  as  much  pleasure  as  it 
gives  me. 

'  On  this  night 
Of  solemn  loveliness,  I  think  on  thee, 
My  brother,  and  on  all  which  thou  hast  been. 
Nor  seldom,  if  I  rightly  guess,  while  there 
Muttering  the  verses  which  we  muttered  first 
In  Christ  Church  cloisters,  through  the  midnight  watch, 
Art  pacing  to  and  fro  the  vessel's  deck 
In  some  far  region,  here,  while  in  mine  ear 
The  breezes  murmur  with  a  sea-like  sound. 
Alone  I  walk  my  room  —  for  aught  I  know 
Timing  my  steps  to  thine,  and  with  a  store 
Of  undistinguishable  sympatliies. 
Mingling  most  earnest  wishes,  for  the  day. 
When  we  and  others  whom  we  love  shall  meet 
A  second  time  in  Salem's  happy  courts  ! ' " 


Under  date  of  the  "  cloisters  of  Cripplegate,"  on  the  festival  of 
St.  Barnabas,  he  writes,  "  If  this  link  in  the  chain  which  binds,  as 
it  were,  the  two  extremities  of  the  earth  together,  ever  reaches 
you,  I  trust  it  will  be  in  some  grateful  and  pleasant  haven  of  the 
Southern  Pacific,  where  you   are   refreshing  yourself  from  the  toils 


1830.]  CimiST   CHURCH.  227 

and  exposures  of  your  long  and  perilous  voyage,  and  where  for  the 
time,  removed  from  all  antarctic  and  antiscorbutic  associations,  your 
memories  and  hopes  are  full  of  home.  .  .  .  Farewell,  my  dear 
friend  ;  keep  your  anchor  within  the  veil. 

'  Thou  Framer  of  the  light  and  dark, 
Keep  this  thy  servant  in  thine  ark. 
Amid  the  howling  ivintry  sea  ; 
He  is  in  port,  if  he  has  Thee.' 

«  So  prays  Keble,  and  so  prays  yours  affectionately,  W.  C." 

July  31,  he  thus  affects  to  describe  the  soporific  effect  of  the  ex- 
treme heat  on  the  people  and  preacher,  on  the  Lord's  day  :  "  Our 
efforts  are  rewarded  by  nods  of  approving  listeners,  and  mutatis  mu- 
tandis, we  realize  that  rich  scene  in  Cowper,  — 


'  Sweet  sleep  enjoys  the  curate  in  his  desk, 
The  tedious  rector  drawling  o'er  his  head, 
And  sweet  the  cierk  below.' 

"  The  slumbers  of  the  day  anticipate,  however,  those  of  the  even- 
ing. Our  nights  are  restless,  and  we  toss  to  and  fro  till  the  dawn- 
ing of  the  day.  To  crown  our  suffering,  the  terrible  insect  begins 
to  wind  his  horn,  who  cannot  be  content  to  bite  without  bragging 
beforehand,  and  whose  instincts  have  not  changed  since  they  were 
described  by  Homer,  as  being 

'  Such  as  prompts  the  fly,  which  oft 
From  flesh  of  man  repulsed,  her  purpose  yet 
To  bite  holds  fast,  resolved  on  human  blood.' 

"  What  are  all  the  trials  of  heat  and  frost  in  your  compass  of 
sea  and  land,  what  all  the  perils  of  waters,  compared  to  those 
which  little  men  invent  to  plague  themselves  !  Meanwhile,  all  na- 
ture looks  gloriously.  Never  was  there  a  promise  of  a  more  abun- 
dant harvest. 

'  He  covereth  the  heavens  with  clouds  ; 
He  prepareth  rain  for  the  earth  ; 
He  maketh  grass  to  grow  upon  the  mountains : 
The  pastures  are  clothed  with  flocks  : 
The  valleys  also  are  covered  over  with  corn ; 
They  shout  for  joy ;  they  also  sing  ! '  " 


228  MEMOIK   OF  WILLIAM    CROSWELL.  [1839. 

December  19,  speaking  of  the  following  sonnet,  which  his  friend 
had  constructed  on  the  heights  of  the  Andes,  he  compliments  him  on 
its  merits,  and  apprises  him  that  he  had  sent  it  to  the  "  Chrouicle  " 
at  New  Haven,  for  pubUcation  :  — 


SONNET, 

WRITTEN    ON    THE    ANDES,    JUNE    21,    1839. 

Glory  to  God  on  high !  the  anthem  raise ! 

Where  mortal  voice  hath  never  stirred  the  air, 

Let  the  first  sounds  that  break  the  silence  there 
Make  thee,  bleak  mountain,  vocal  with  His  praise, 
Who  in  his  strength  hath  set  the  mountains  fast, 

And  girded  them  about  with  awful  power, 
To  stand  so  long  as  time  himself  shall  last. 

Towering  sublime,  till  that  tremendous  hour 
When  from  his  presence  they  shall  melt  in  fear 

Like  wax.     O  thou  that  sittest  evermore 
At  the  right  hand  of  God  the  Father,  hear 

Our  humble  prayer,  that  wh  in  these  mountains  hoar 
Shall  quake  to  1  heir  foundations,  we  the  shock 
May  sheltered  bide  in  Thee,  our  sure  Salvation's  Rock ! 

J.  P.  C. 


It  is  a  pleasure  to  add,  in  this  place,  a  few  extracts  from  one  of 
the  letters  of  Mr.  Couthout.     It  is  dated,  — 

"U.  S.  Ship  Vincennes,  in  Orange  Harbor,  (south  coast  of 
Terra  del  Fuego,)  March  3.  I  write  this,  literally,  from  one  of  the 
ends  of  the  world.  Orange  Harbor  is  a  beautiful  cove  on  the  south 
side  of  Nassau  Bay,  about  fifty  miles  north-west  of  Cape  Horn, 
and  is  about  five  or  six  miles  in  circumference,  shut  in  on  all  sides 
by  lofty  hills,  except  a  narrow  entrance  at  the  north-east  end.  Near 
the  coast,  these  are  round,  and  covered  with  a  low  growth  of  birch 
and  beech,  the  only  trees  found  here  ;  but  half  a  dozen  miles  inland, 
they  assume  a  very  bold  and  rugged  aspect,  frequently  towering 
from  five  hundred  to  a  thousand  feet,  in  an  almost  perpendicular 
wall,  their  summits  broken  into  sharp,  irregular  ridges,  with  deep 
chasms  between,  in  the  bottom  of  which  snow  lies  the  year  round. 
On  the  23d  of  February,  I  made  an  excursion,  in  com- 
pany with  Dr.  Pickering  and  Mr.  Brackenridge,  to  a  peak,  about 
six  miles  from  the  ship,  in  a  southern  direction,  called  the  Sentry 
Box,  from  a  slight  resemblance  to  one  which  it  exhibits  in  some 
points  of  view."  After  giving  a  description  of  the  very  fatiguing 
jaunt  by  which  they  arrived  at  the  spot,  with  a  series  of  scientifi'- 


1839.]  CHRIST   CHURCH.  229 

observations,  he  proceeds  :  "  About  2,  P.  M.,  we  reached  the  Sen- 
try Box,  Aviiich  we  found  to  be  an  irregular  conical  mass,  some 
eighty  feet  in  height,  on  the  crest  of  a  steep  ridge.  We  ascended 
it,  and  ate  thei'e  our  bread  and  cheese,  taking  a  glass  of  wine  to  the 
health  of  our  friends  at  home,  and  the  success  of  the  expedition. 
There  was  just  room  for  all  three  to  be  seated,  and  on  the  north 
side  we  could  look  down,  almost  perpendicularly,  eight  or  nine  hun- 
dred feet,  into  the  valley  declining  to  the  coast.  Seeing  a  large, 
ragged,  and  apparently  higher  cliff,  about  a  mile  and  a  half  north- 
eastward, we  determined  on  making  an  attempt  to  ascend  it." 
This  proved  to  be  a  most  laborious  and  perilous  undertaking  ;  but 
by  great  perseverance,  the  object  was  effected  ;  and  his  own  graphic 
description  of  the  scene  will  show  how  well  they  were  rewarded 
for  their  trouble  :  "  The  prospect  here  amply  repaid  our  exertions. 
To  the  northward  was  Orange  Bay,  looking  like  a  little  cove,  hard- 
ly fit  for  boats,  and  our  squadron  reminding  me  of  those  delicate 
ships  of  the  toy-shops,  on  a  mimic  sea  of  glass.  To  the  south-west, 
as  far  as  the  eye  could  discern,  stretched  ranges  of  lofty  hills,  hoary 
with  the  accumulated  snows  of  thousands  of  years.  Eastward  was 
Hermit  Island,  with  the  southernmost  land  of  America,  Cape  Horn, 
distant  some  fifty  miles,  standing  out  in  bold  relief  against  the  sky, 
while  the  coast,  for  many  miles  on  either  side  of  us,  was  spread  out 
like  a  map,  showing  numerous  bays  and  liarbors,  similar  to  that  se- 
lected by  us.  One  of  the  most  beautiful  features  in  the  view  was 
the  soft,  rosy  tint  of  the  snow-covered  mountains,  where  the  sun 
shone  upon  them.  Tiiere  are  some  over  seven  thousand  feet  high. 
We  saw  the  smoke  of  several  fires  kindled  by  the  natives  at  differ- 
ent points  of  the  coast,  but  none  in  our  immediate  neigliborhood." 
After  some  furtlier  scientific  observations,  he  again  proceeds :  "  We 
estimated  the  height  of  this  peak  at  about  sixteen  hundred  feet 
above  sea  level,  and  nearly  three  hundred  above  the  Sentry  Box, 
which  has  been  su[)posed  the  highest.  Previous  to  leaving,  we 
tumbled  several  blocks  of  stone  over  the  precipice,  which,  in  gen- 
eral, were  dashed  into  atoms  long  ere  they  reached  the  bottom.  At 
last  our  ambition  was  excited  by  a  large  mass  of  at  least  a  ton's 
weight,  which  seemed  nicely  balanced  on  the  very  edge.  After 
about  fifteen  minutes'  hard  work,  we  succeeded  in  detaching  it ;  but 
we  came  near  detaching  ourselves  also  —  an  arrangement  that  had  by 
no  means  entered  into  our  calculations.  The  smaller  stones,  resting 
against  it,  probably,  since  the  flood,  inclined  still  to  keep  it  com- 
pany. So  far  it  was  very  w  ell,  as  the  more  the  merrier  ;  but  as 
we  were  seated  on  them,  they  seemed  disposed  to  have  us  accom- 
pany them  also,  which,  as  having  no  interest  in  the  race,  except  as 
mere  spectators,  we  could  not  think  of  doing  ;  but  to  avoid  it,  we 
had  literally  to  daw  out  of  the  scrape  for  our  very  lives.  It  was 
uo  joke  at  the  moment,  I  assure  you.      How  foolish  we  should  have 


230  MEMOm  OF  WILLIAM  CROSWELL.  [1839. 

felt,  to  be  tumbling  over  the  rocks,  one  after  the  other,  fifty  or  a 
hundred  feet  at  a  time,  here  a  head,  and  there  a  leg,  with  nobody 
near  to  cry  bravo,  when  we  made  an  extra  jump !  The  effect  of 
the  falling  fragment,  though,  was  magnificent,  and  at  the  same  time 
terrible,  from  the  resistless  fury  of  its  course.  Down  it  went, 
smoking  and  crashing,  hurling  with  tremendous  bounds  from  crag 
to  crag,  and  steep  to  steep  ;  ever  and  anon  dashing  off  projecting 
rocks,  even  larger  than  itself,  which,  in  their  turn,  as  they  scoured 
along,  tore  away  others  in  their  passage.  Sometimes,  with  a  single 
bound,  they  leaped  down  a  precipice  of  a  hundred  feet,  striking 
the  ground  with  a  crash  that  reverberated  among  the  hills  like  the 
roar  of  heavy  artillery,  while  the  thousand  fragments  into  which 
they  shivered  rattled  onward  with  a  sound  like  a  volley  of  mus- 
ketry. Occasionally,  however,  a  block  would  continue  unbroken 
to  the  valley,  perhaps  a  thousand  feet  below,  tfearing  a  wide  path, 
and  prostrating  the  shrubs  and  small  trees  that  were  in  its  way,  as 
if  they  were  spears  of  grass.  It  was  really  a  grand  sight :  and 
there  we  stood,  on  that  giddy  peak,  perfectly  wild  with  the  excite- 
ment." , 

Having  already  spoken  of  tlie  great  amount  of  his  daily  labors, 
and  their  probable  effect  upon  his  health,  the  reader  may  perhaps 
be  surprised  to  learn,  that  he  was  led,  by  his  irrepressible  zeal  and 
devotion  to  the  interests  of  the  Church,  to  commit  himself,  on  cer- 
tain contingencies,  to  incur  new  cares,  and  a  still  greater  weight  of 
responsibility.  Early  in  the  present  year,  overtures  were  made  to 
him  to  undertake,  in  whole  or  in  part,  the  editorial  charge  of  the 
"  Christian  Witness."  This  paper  was  then  in  the  course  of  publi- 
cation in  Boston  ;  but  from  its  partisan  cliaracter,  and  from  the  ac- 
knowledged incompetence  of  its  editor,  it  had  failed  to  secure  the 
confidence  or  satisfy  tiie  expectations  of  the  public  ;  and  it  was 
hoped  that  by  placing  it  under  the  joint  direction  of  clergymen  of 
somewhat  difterent  views,  it  might  yet  be  sustained.  He  did  not  at. 
once  reject  this  proposal,  though  the  idea  of  a  divided  responsibihty 
would  have  been  extremely  repugnant  to  his  feelings.  With  all  his 
settled  aversion  to  an  editorial  occupation,  he  was  willing  to  take  the 
matter  into  consideration.  On  due  deliberation,  and  after  suitable 
consultation  with  his  friends,  he  finally  expressed  his  consent  to  take 
charge  of  the  paper,  on  certain  prescribed  conditions.  These  con- 
ditions would  have  given  him  the  chief  control  of  the  publication ; 
and  as  the  original  projectors  and  founders  of  the  paper  were  not  to 
be  persuaded  to  relinquish  their  share  of  the  management,  the  ofter 
was  declined  or,  in  other  words,  no  further  advances  were  made 
on  the  subject ;  and,  providentially,  the  rector  of  Christ  Church  was 
left  to  pursue  his  proper  and  legitimate  labors,  without  the  additional 
weight  of  this  yoke  of  bondage. 


1839.]  CHRIST   CHURCH.  231 

In  the  course  of  the  year  he  fre(|iieiitlyalhideis,  in  his  correspond- 
ence, to  the  inconveniences  attending  a  bacheh^r  life  ;  and  among 
many  vague  and  ohHqiie  hints  on  the  subject  of  matrimony,  he 
plainly  intimates  his  settled  conviction,  that  it  is  not  good  for  him 
to  be  alone.  He  often  felt  the  want  of  a  home  that  he  could  call 
his  own,  and  especially  in  the  hours  of  weariness  and  loneliness,  and 
when  he  could  not  seek  the  comforts  of  society  abroad.  He  wished 
also  to  have  it  in  his  power  to  exercise  hospitality  to  his  brethren 
and  friends  in  his  "own  house,"  even  though  it  were  a  "hired  one." 
It  was  not,  however,  till  near  the  close  of  this  year,  that  he  began 
to  speak  so  definitely  on  the  subject,  as  to  satisfy  his  friends,  that 
he  had  seriously  resolved  to  change  his  condition. 

During  this  year,  he  allowed  himself  time  only  for  three  short 
visits.  Two  of  these  were  given  exclusively  to  his  parental  home  ; 
but  a  portion  of  the  third  was  spent  in  Burlington,  and  devoted  to 
his  well-beloved  young  friend  and  brother,  the  Rev.  Benjamin  D. 
WiNSLOW,  who  was  then  prostrate  with  incurable  sickness,  and  who 
soon  after,  at  the  age  of  twenty-five,  ended  his  short,  though  bright 
career  of  eminent  usefulness,  by  a  most  triumphant  death.  The 
history  of  this  young  and  faithful  servant  of  God  has  been  written 
elsewhere ;  but  with  the  subject  of  this  memoir  his  life  was  closely 
blended,  and  the  circumstances  of  this  last  interview  are  too  full 
of  precious  memories  to  be  passed  over.  Mr.  Winslow  was  a  na- 
tive of  Boston,  and  had  been  brought  up,  baptized,  and  admitted  to 
the  holy  comnnmion,  under  the  pastoral  care  and  instruction  of  the 
rector  of  Christ  Church  ;  and  the  warmest  aflfection  had  always  been 
cherished  between  them.  Winslow  was  at  this  time  assistant  minis- 
ter of  St.  Mary's  Church  in  Burlington,  of  which  Bishop  Doane 
was  rector.  And  now,  at  the  moment  of  his  extremity,  when  the 
bishop  was  necessarily  absent  on  official  duty,  his  old  friend  and 
pastor  hastened  to  his  sick  chamber,  to  minister  to  his  comfort,  and 
enjoy  the  sweet  conmiunion  of  kindred  spirits.  It  appears  from  a 
brief  record  in  the  rector's  journal,  that  on  the  night  of  the  14th 
of  October,  he  watched  with  his  young  friend,  that  he  was  restless 
and  sleepless  during  the  first  part  of  the  night,  and  that  they  spent 
much  time  in  interesting  conversation.  Among  other  things  they 
called  to  mind  the  following  passage  in  a  letter  from  Sir  Walter 
Scott  to  Lord  Byron,  written  November  6,  1813,  and  published  in 
Lockhart's  Life  of  Scott :  "  Your  lordship  will  probably  recollect 
where  the  Oriental  tale  occurs,  of  a  sultan  who  consulted  Solomon 
on  the  proper  inscription  for  a  signet  ring,  requiring  that  tiie  nnix- 
ini  which  it  conveyed  should  be  at  once  proper  for  moderating  the 
presumption  of  prosperity,  and  tempering  the  pressure  of  adversity. 
The  apothegm  supplied  by  tlie  .Jewish  sage  was,  I  think,  adniirably 
adapted  for  both  purposes,  being  comprehended   in   the  words,  And 


232  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1839. 

THIS  ALSO  SHALL  PASS  AWAY  !  "  Mr.  WiNSLOW  now  fell  into  a 
state  of  calm  repose,  but  afterwards  roused  up  and  remarked,  that 
his  thoughts  had  arranged  themselves  in  a  few  lines,  which  he  would 
trouble  his  friend,  as  his  amanuensis,  to  write  down  from  his  mouth  ; 
and  these  are  the  lines  thus  dictated,  and  thus  written.  They  are 
lines  of  which  any  poet  might  be  proud  ;  and,  taking  all  the  cir- 
cumstances into  consideration,  it  may  well  be  doubted  whether  any 
production  can  be  found  of  more  touching  pathos  and  beauty. 


««TinS  ALSO   SHALL  PASS  AWAY." 

When  morning  sunbeams  round  me  shed 
Their  light  and  influence  blest,    ■ 

When  flowery  paths  before  me  spread, 
And  life  in  smiles  is  drest ; 

In  darkling  lines  that  dim  each  ray 

I  read,  "  This,  too,  shall  pass  away." 

When  murky  clouds  o'erhang  the  sky, 

Far  down  the  vale  of  years, 
And  vainly  looks  the  tearful  eye, 

Where  not  a  hope  appears, 
Lo,  characters  of  glory  play 
'Mid  shades :  "  This,  too,  shall  pass  away.' 

Blest  words,  that  temper  pleasure's  beam, 

And  lighten  sorrow's  gloom, 
That  early  sadden  youth's  bright  dream. 

And  cheer  the  old  man's  tomb. 
Unto  that  world  be  ye  my  stay. 
That  world  which  shall  not  pass  away. 


At  the  close  of  this  interview,  the  journal  adds,  "He  gave  me 
Archbishop  Laud's  Devotions,  as  a  parting  gift."  And  after  uniting 
in  fervent  prayer,  the  two  friends  separated,  never  to  meet  again  in 
this  world.  Of  the  sincere  grief  of  the  surviving  friend  and  broth- 
er, his  own  language  is  the  best  index.  Writing  to  his  father  on 
the  25th  of  November,  he  says,  "  I  received  the  melancholy 
tidings  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Winslow's  death,  from  Burlington,  yester- 
day morning,  and  they  have  hardly  been  out  of  my  mind  since. 
His  death,  like  his  life,  was  an  example  to  us  all.  He  was  one  of 
the   choicest   spirits   in  the   Church,  and  I   cherish  his  memory  in 


1839.]  CHRIST   CHURCH.  233 

my  heart  of  hearts.  Those  heautifiil  lines  whicli  he  dictated  to 
me  the  last  night  I  spent  with  him,  were  his  sweetest,  swan-like 
strains :  — 

'  Death  darkens  his  eye,  and  unplumes  his  wings, 
But  his  sweetest  song  is  the  last  he  sings.' 

"  He  will  be  ever  in  my  thoughts,  when  we  commemorate  the 
departed  faithful,  in  that  incomparable  prayer  for  the  whole  state 
of  Christ's  church  militant."  In  a  letter  of  December  2,  he  calls 
his  father's  attention  to  an  obituary  notice  of  Mr.  Winslow,  written 
by  Bishop  Doane,  for  the  Banner  of  the  Cross,  and  adds,  "  The 
bishop  intends  to  prepare  an  extended  memoir  of  him,  with  a  se- 
lection from  his  '  Remains,'  which  are  of  great  interest,  and  in 
which  labor  of  love  I  can  do  much  to  assist  him.  This  sad  loss 
makes  a  perfect  Abel  Mizraim  of  Burlington.  The  bishop  is  com- 
pletely broken  down  by  it,  and  Well  he  may  be  ;  for  he  will  never 
see  such  another.  How  well  we  all  loved  him,  and  how  much  we 
loved  him,  could  not  have  been  known  till  we  had  seen  the  weeping 
and  grief  which  his  death  has  occasioned." 

Tht}  emotions  awakened  by  this  event  were  by  no  means  of  a 
momentary  or  transient  nature  ;  but  for  several  of  the  coming  years, 
in  his  correspondence  with  his  friends,  and  the  relations  or  friends 
of  Mr.  Winslow,  he  was  in  the  constant  habit  of  recurring,  with 
the  deepest  feeling,  to  this  bereavement.  About  a  year  after,  for 
example,  he  acknowledges  the  gift,  from  a  highly-esteemed  rela- 
tive, of  a  copy  of  the  Lyra  Apostolica  —  "  ever,"  he  says,  "  to  be 
fondly  cherished,  for  its  own  sake  and  yours,  and  more  from  the 
value  it  acquired,  as  being  the  favorite  companion  of  our  beloved 
Benjamin's  last  hours.  .  .  .  The  little  book  has  been  a  great 
comfort  to  me  in  my  lonely  hours,  and  has  served  to  bind  us  all, 
living  and  dead,  as  it  were,  together,  and  in  the  saints'  communion. 
The  two  beautiful  pieces  which  Benjamin  selected  with  so  fine  an 
instinct  are  worth  all  the  rest :  indeed,  there  is  nothing  else  like 
them."  Again,  at  a  still  later  period,  the  subjoined  elegiac 
lines,  dated  at  Auburn,  on  St.  Paul's  Day,  1843,  were  enclosed  to 
the  same  relative,  and  sufficiently  show  that  the  fountain  of  his  grief 
was  still  open  :  "  1  venture,"  he  says  "  to  send  you  these  lines,  utter- 
ly unworthy  as  they  are  of  the  theme,  in  token  of  affectionate  re- 
membrance, in  the  midst  of  harassing  duties,  and  with  the  hope, 
that  you  will  regard  them  with  indulgence,  for  his  dear  sake,  on 
trhom  they  were  written,  and  for  his  sake,  also,  by  whom  they  are 
written." 

30 


234  MEMOIR  OF  ^^^LLIAM  CROSWELL.  [1839. 


ELEGIAC  — B.  D.  W. 

In  silence  I  have  wept  for  thee,  and  with  a  grief  sincere, 
And  conscious,  dearest  Benjamin,  that  "  love  was  in  arrear," 
But  shrinking  still,  lest  in  thy  praise  I  should  myself  commend, 
So  high  in  merit  thou,  and  I  so  very  dear  a  friend. 

Else  I  had  earlier  witness  borne,  how,  watching  by  thy  side, 
When  thou  the  hour  of  thy  release  didst  patiently  abide, 
At  midnight,  as  the  taper's  light  began  like  thee  to  wane. 
Thou  pouredst  in  my  ravished  ear  thy  last  and  swan-like  strain. 

Like  Baruch,  when  the  prophet's  lips  glowed  with  unearthly  fires, 
I  noted  down  the  soothing  words  which  peace  divine  inspires, 
Preserving  since,  with  hallowed  care,  thy  oft-repeated  lay, 
So  soon  to  prove  its  moral  true,  —  "  This,  too,  shall  pass  away  ! " 

We  prayed  and  parted,  when  the  dawn  began  too  soon  to  break, 
And  dear  the  book  thou  gavest  me,  to  cherish  for  thy  sake, 
And  dearer  still  the  pencilled  words,  the  last  I  saw  thee  write. 
In  token  of  the  Master's  grace,  "  who  giveth  songs  by  night ! " 

The  vows  thy  youth  had  registered,  ere  yet  it  lost  its  dew. 
Here,  in  my  life's  meridian  day,  I  solemnly  renew; 
And  when,  though  following  far  behind,  I've  run  my  weary  race. 
May  I,  with  thee,  in  better  worlds,  share  in  our  Lord's  embrace. 


On  the  return  of  his  thirty-fifth  birthday,  November  7,  his  mus- 
ings are  solemn  and  afFecting :  "  With  regard  to  the  past,"  he  says, 
"  it  is  as  hard  to  tell  wliat  has  become  of  it,  as  it  is  to  know  what 
awaits  us  in  the  future  ;  and  yet  it  is  a  solemn  thought,  that  all  its 
history  is  on  the  everlasting  records,  for  good  or  for  evil.  Thirty- 
five  years  more  would  carry  me  to  the  verge  of  the  longevity  as- 
signed to  man  ;  and  what  is  it,  at  most,  but  a  handbreadth,  to  the 
spirit  whose  faculties  require  to  be  exercised  on  subjects  illimita- 
ble as  eternity  ?  I  find  myself  altered,  yet  the  same  ;  and 
appreciating,  I  trust,  more  and  more,  the  value  of  time,  as  the 
pivot  on  which  our  everlasting  destinies  turn.  I  should  have  been 
disposed  to  turn  the  current  of  my  thoughts  into  verse ;  but  my  in- 
terruptions have  been  such  as  not  to  favor  the  inspiration  requisite 
for  the  highest  order  of  composition,  whether  poetry  or  prose." 
Pursuing  the  same  idea,  he  remarks  in  a  subsequent  letter,  alluding 
to  a  promise  to  write  in   a  young   lady's  album,  "  I  cannot  bear 

to  fill  up ''s  book  with  my  old  riiymes  ;  and  as  for  new  ones, 

I  am  not  at  all  disposed  to  add  to  the  stock  of  bad  poetry."     So 


1840.]  CHRIST   CHURCH.  235 

far  as  can  be  discovered,  indeed,  he  appears  to  have  written  but 
little  poetry  at  this  time.  Among  his  loose  papers,  however,  is 
found,  under  date  of  "  Parsonage,  New  Haven,  1839,"  the  follow- 
ing translation,  with  which  the  record  of  the  year  is  closed :  — 


PRISON  HYMN,  BY  MARY,   QUEEN   OF  SCOTS. 

Jehovah,  my  Savior, 

My  confidence  Thou ; 
O  loveliest  Jesus, 

Deliver  me  now. 
In  closest  immurings, 
In  cruel  endurings, 
My  flesh  and  my  spirit  cry  out  after  Thee ! 

I  languish 

In  anguish. 
And  bending  the  knee, 

Adore  Thee, 

Implore  Thee 
To  liberate  me. 


1840. 

This  year  is  distinguished  as  one  of  the  most  eventful  of  his 
life ;  a  year  of  change,  and  a  year  of  great  trial,  as  well  as  a  year 
of  high  enjoyment.  An  air  of  sadness  pervades  the  opening  rec- 
ords. During  almost  the  entire  month  of  January,  he  was  afflicted 
with  sickness,  and  was  under  medical  treatment.  But  he  still  took 
upon  himself  some  portion  of  the  public  duties  of  the  parish,  be- 
side the  labor  of  an  extensive  correspondence.  Writing  to  his 
father  on  the  Feast  of  the  Epiphany,  he  thus  alludes  to  a  practice 
which  he  had  followed  for  several  years,  and  which  he  continued  to 
the  close  of  his  life  :  "  The  last  week  has  been  one  of  unusually 
solemn  interest.     New  Year's  day  has  ceased,  with  me,  to  be  a  day 


*  O  Domine  Deus, 
Speravi  in  Te  ! 
0  care  mi  Jesu, 

Nunc  libera  me  ! 
In  dura  catena, 
In  misera  poena, 
[Ab  pectore  imof]  desidero  Te  ! 


Languendo, 

Gemendo, 
Et  genuflectendo, 

Adoro, 

Imploro 
Ut  liberas  me ! 


t  Interpolated  to  adapt  it  to  the  air  of  the  Coronach. 


236  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1840. 

of  much  cheer.  I  see  but  few  visitors,  and  it  brings  fewer  gifts. 
The  arrangement  of  all  my  letters  for  the  previous  twelve  months 
calls  up  a  review  of  all  the  incidents  of  that  period,  in  such  bright 
or  dark  array  as  can  hardly  fail  for  the  time  to  make  us  sadder, 
if  not  wiser.  Every  revohition  of  the  sort  brings  so  many  in- 
creasing warnings  of  instability,  in  my  own  personal  experience,  as 
well  as  my  daily  observation,  that  I  should  be  hardened  indeed  if 
I  could  steel  myself  against  the  impression.  I  rather  seek  to  yield 
to  it,  and  to  make  it  most  profitable,  by  God's  grace,  for  the  future. 
I  said  that  I  had  but  few  gifts  on  New  Year's  day.  I  had, 
in  fact,  but  one  ;  but  that  one  so  elegant  as  rather  to  humiliate  than 
to  gratify  me.  It  was  the  most  elegant  writing  desk,  inlaid  with 
brass,  that  I  have  ever  seen,  with  all  the  apparatus  to  correspond. 
Beautiful,  exceedingly !  It  came  anonymously,  but  I  have  no 
misgivings  as  to  the  donor.  .  .  .  And  now,  what  shall  I  say 
more  — for  my  time  is  up  —  but  what  you  already  know,  but  which 
you  will  not  be  tired  of  hearing  repeated  for  the  thousandth  time, 
that  you  all  live  in  my  memory  and  love ;  that  I  long  greatly  to  see 
you  ;  and  that  I  hope  this  year  will  advance  each  and  every  one  of 
us,  through  Christ,  on  our  road  towards  heaven.     Amen." 

Previous  to  his  writing  again,  .January  12,  he  had  been  prostrated, 
by  an  increase  of  his  sickness,  for  three  or  four  days ;  but  on  Sun- 
day, the  Rev.  Dr.  Boyle,  whom  he  styles  his  "  dear  and  valued  old 
friend,"  and  of  whom  he  always  spoke  in  terms  of  great  veneration 
and  affection,  "  came  to  his  relief."  He  adds,  "  For  my  own 
part,  I  certainly  say,  that  it  is  well  to  be  sick.  We  should  other- 
wise forget  our  helplessness,  and  our  dependence  on  God,  not  only, 
but  on  man  also.  As  soon  as  I  am  able  to  travel,  I  shall  set  out  on 
my  way  towards  you." 

Two  days  later,  he  speaks  of  some  improvement  in  his  health, 
and  of  his  beginning  to  indulge  his  appetite,  adding,  "  My  dear 
friend,  Mrs.  Sumnek,  has  sent  me  a  copy  of  Burgess's  Version  of 
the  Psalms,  just  in  time  to  complete  my  list  of  luxuries  ;  so  that, 
while  the  body  is  repairing  its  strength  out  of  the  good  things 
which  begin  to  pour  in,  I  can  solace  my  soul,  and  expel  its  evil  pas- 
sions, by  striking  a  few  chords  from  tlie  harp  of  David.  Brother 
B.  is  a  true  minstrel,  and  has  elicited  some  graceful  strains  ;  but 
his  version  will  not  supersede  any  which  are  in  use  in  the  Church. 
I  was  pleased  to  see  that  he  has  adopted  the  same  reading  which  I 
gave  in  my  translation  of  the  cxxxiii.  Psalm,  and  which  makes  it 
one  of  the  choicest  gems  in  David's  coronet." 

It  may  not  be  amiss  to  mention,  in  this  connection,  that  he  once 
conceived  the  idea  of  throwing  all,  or  a  principal  part,  of  the 
Psalms  of  David  into  easy  versification  ;  but  he  was  anticipated 
in  this  intention  by  Mr.  Burgess,  to  whose  work  he  often  alludes  in 
his  letters,  as  in   the  foregoing  extract,  in  flattering  terms.     But 


1840]  CHRIST   CIIT^IICII.  237 

tliouj"!!  he  relinquished  his  general  plan,  he  left  among  his  niiscelhi- 
neous  papers  a  few  specimens,  dated  St.  Peter's  Parsonage,  Au- 
burn, 1840  ;  and  a  copy  of  his  version  of  the  first  Psahn  was  rotn- 
municated  to  a  confidential  friend,  with  this  remark:  "  It  was  made 
long  since.  I  was  always  ashamed  of  it,  and  never  more  so  than 
after  reading  the  version  of  Burgess."  * 


PSALM  I. 

Happy  the  man  who  never  ■walks 

Where  impious  men  repair, 
Nor  lingers  in  the  sinner's  way, 

Nor  takes  the  scoffer's  chair. 

But  in  Jehovah's  ordinance 

He  finds  a  pure  delight ; 
Enriching  thus  the  orisons 

Of  every  day  and  night. 

He  like  a  fruitful  tree  shall  be, 

Set  by  the  water's  brim  ; 
His  leaf  shall  never  fade,  and  all 

Is  prosperous  with  him. 

Not  so  the  impious  ones  —  like  chaff 

Swept  by  the  wind  away, 
They  with  the  righteous  shall  not  stand 

Upon  the  judgment  day. 

They  hold  no  place  amid  the  just, 
Whose  way  Jehovah  knows  ; 

And  every  path  of  godless  men 
Shall  in  perdition  close. 


PSALM  cxxxm. 

Behold,  how  good  it  is. 
How  beautiful  to  see. 

When  brethren  together  dwell 
In  perfect  unity. 


*  The  Rev.  George  Burgess  was  rector  of  Christ  Chiirch,  Hartford,  when 
nis  version  was  written.  —  He  is  now  Bishop  of  Maine. 


238  MEMOm   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  :i840. 

Like  perfume  on  the  head, 

Diffusing  fragrance  round 
The  high  priest's  beard,  and  o'er  the  robes 

Whose  fringes  sweep  the  ground. 

Like  Herman's  dews  which  melt 

Fair  Zion's  summits  o'er ; 
For  there  Jehovah's  blessing  rests, 

And  life  forevermore. 


PSALM  cxxxrv. 

O,  praise  Jehovah,  ye 
Who  his  true  servants  be, 

Jehovah  praise ! 
Ye  who  to  stand  delight, 
And  worship  in  his  sight, 
Nor  leave  his  courts  by  night, 

Jehovah  praise ! 

With  hands  uplifted  high, 
His  oracle  draw  nigh; 

Jehovah  praise  ! 
Till  he  with  holiness 
His  tribes  from  Zion  bless, 
And  heaven  and  earth  confess 

Jehovah's  praise! 


PSALM  cxxxvn. 

By  the  waters  of  Babel  we  sat  down  and  wept, 

As  we  called  our  dear  Zion  to  mind  ; 
And  our  harps  that  in  joy  we  so  often  had  swept 

Now  sighed  on  the  trees  to  the  wind. 

Then  they  that  had  carried  us  captive  away, 

In  mockery,  challenged  a  song. 
And  wringing  out  mirth  from  our  sadness,  would  say, 

"  Sing  the  strains  that  to  Zion  belong." 

O,  how  shall  we  sing  the  ineffable  song 

In  a  godless  and  barbarous  land  ? 
If  the  minstrels  of  Salem  could  do  her  such  wrong. 

Be  palsied  each  cunning  right  hand. 


1840.]  CimiST   CHURCH. 

Let  my  tongfue  to  the  roof  of  my  mouth  ever  cling, 
If  aught  else  should  its  praises  employ, 

Or  if  Salem's  high  glories  it  choose  not  to  sing, 
Above  all  terrestrial  joy. 

Remember  the  children  of  Edom,  O  Lord, 
How  they  cried,  in  Jerusalem's  woe, 

Her  ramparts  and  battlements  raze  with  the  sword, 
Her  temples  and  towers  overthrow. 

O,  daughter  of  Babel !  thy  ruin  makes  haste ; 

And  blessed  be  he  who  devours 
Thy  children  with  famine  and  misery  waste, 

As  thou,  in  thy  rapine,  served  ours. 


PSALM  CL. 

"  Hail  ye  the  Lord  I " 

Hail  him  in  his  sanctitude  ! 

Hail  him  in  his  highest  height ! 
Hail  him  for  his  deeds  of  good ! 

Hail  him  for  his  matchless  might ! 

Hail  him  in  the  trumpet's  strain ! 

Hail  him  with  the  lyre  and  lute  ! 
Hail  him  with  the  timbrel  train ! 

Hail  him  with  the  strings  and  flute ! 

Hail  him  with  the  cymbal's  ring ! 

Hail  him  with  their  loudest  chord  ! 
Hail  him,  every  breathing  thing ! 

Hail,  all  hail,  the  sovereign  Lord ! 


On  Sunday,  the  26th,  he  was  able  to  attend  church,  and  bear 
some  part  in  the  services ;  and  on  the  following  day  he  writes,  "  It 
was  truly  delightful  to  get  to  the  house  of  God  once  more,  after  the 
longest  confinement  to  the  house  which  I  have  had  since  entering 
upon  my  ministerial  duties,  eleven  years  since.  My  text  was,  'It 
is  good  for  me  that  I  have  been  afflicted,  that  I  might  learn  thy 
statutes  ; '  and  I  believe  that  I  can  enter  in  some  measure  into  the 
spirit  and  sentiment  of  the  Psalmist.  May  God  preserve  me  from 
that  worst  of  all  afflictions,  an  affliction  lost !  " 

After  a  few  days  of  unavoidable  delay,  he  was  enabled,  on  the 
12th  of  February,  to  start  on  his  anticipated  journey  homeward.     He 


•240  MEMOIR   OF  ^^^LLIAM   CROSA\^LL.  [1840. 

was  absent  from  his  parish  until  the  29th,  including  two  Sundays, 
the  first  of  which  was  spent  with  his  friends  at  Hartford,  and  the 
other  in  New  Haven,  and  on  each  of  which  he  preached  twice,  be- 
sides aiding  in  the  other  services.  His  visit  was  a  source  of  great 
mutual  enjoyment  to  himself  and  his  friends.  His  health  appeared 
to  be  perfectly  restored  ;  and  it  will  be  seen,  that  on  his  return,  he 
was  again  ready  to  enter,  with  his  usual  zeal  and  activity,  upon  his 
duties.  Writing  on  Monday,  March  9,  he  says,  "  On  Wednesday, 
(Ash  Wednesday,)  I  was  engaged  in  three  services,  appropriate  to 
the  season  ;  one  of  them  at  Trinity,  it  being  my  turn  to  open  tlie 
Price  Lectures.  .  .  .  Yesterday,  I  had  three  services,  Sunday 
school,  and  two  baptisms,  at  separate  times.  Our  congregations 
are  large,  and  much  seriousness  prevails."  He  proceeds  here  to 
speak  confidentially  of  some  circumstances  which  evidently  dis- 
turbed his  feelings,  and  which,  doubtless,  had  much  influence  in 
leading  to  the  eventual  change  in  his  pastoral  relations  :  "  During 
my  absence,  some  over-kind  friends  were  disposed  to  sow  the  seeds 
of  disaffection,  and  I  returned  just  in  time  to  tread  them  out.  An 
other  week  might  have  been  too  late.  All  is  right  now.  Still  this 
single  symptom  makes  some  change  in  my  views  of  duty  ;  and  if 
Auburn  should  be  once  more  vacant,  and  fairly  presented,  I  should 
perhaps  never  be  more  disposed  to  remove  to  that  '  loveliest  village 
of  the  plain.'  Very  probably,  however,  between  this  and  Easter,  I 
shall  find  abundant  cause  to  be  satisfied  to  remain  as  I  am.  Other- 
wise, I  shall  be  free  to  entertain  proposals  for  transferring  my  rela- 
tions elsewhere."  His  aUusion  to  Auburn  was  very  natural.  Dur- 
ing a  former  vacancy  in  that  parish,  his  personal  friends  had  en- 
deavored to  obtain  his  consent  to  entertain  proposals  for  a  removal. 
This,  however,  was  declined  at  the  time,  and  the  place  was  other- 
wise supplied. 

It  is  curious  to  learn,  from  this  letter,  what  were  his  first  impres- 
sions with  regard  to  that  great  discovery,  the  daguerreotype, 
which  was  then  considered  as  among  the  deepest  of  mysteries,  but 
which  has  since  become  so  common  and  familiar,  that  it  ceases  to 
excite  the  slightest  wonder :  "  I  have  found  time,  in  the  midst  of  my 
engagements,  to  look  at  the  daguerreotype,  and  to  share  in  the 
'■first  view  '  given  by  the  artist  to  '  some  of  the  eminent  men  and 
distinguished  artists  of  the  city.'  In  their  way,  the  drawings  are 
surpassingly  fine  ;  and  though  on  a  smaller  scale  than  I  expected, 
nothing  can  exceed  the  sharpness  and  distinctness  with  which  the 
minutest  parts  of  the  landscape  are  finished.  The  wonderfiil  ap- 
plication of  chemical  agencies  to  produce,  in  a  moment,  what  would 
cost  creative  genius  months  of  labor  to  accomplish  with  less  accu 
racy,  makes  an  epoch  in  the  history  of  art.  The  interiors,  and 
copies  of  busts,   statuary,  and  engraving,  as   they  appear  about  a 


1840.1  CHRIST   CHURCH.  241 

room,  are  the  most  satisfactory,  if  possible,  tliough  the  diftercnt 
views  of  Paris  are  said  to  be  the  very  life  itself.  .  .  .  I  do 
not  despair  of  '  royal  roads '  for  all  purposes  under  heaven.  I  fear 
we  shall  never  find  any  easier  may  to  heaven,  or  any  new  facilities 
for  working  out  our  salvation." 

On  the  20th  of  March,  he  addressed  a  private  letter  to  his  father, 
freely  opening  his  heart  on  the  subject,  at  which  he  had  hitherto 
hinted  only  in  vague  and  indefinite  terms.  The  time  had  come 
when  he  could  no  longer  hesitate  as  to  the  expediency  and  propriety 
of  entering  J^ito  a  matrimonial  engagement.  His  partialities  and 
movements  were  doubtless  closely  watched  and  scrutinized  by  some 
who  thought  they  discovered  a  disposition  on  his  part  to  make  this 
change  in  his  domestic  relations ;  and  he  had  no  difficulty  in  tracing 
to  their  intermeddling  the  slight  disaffection  which  he  had  already 
experienced.  It  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  could  almost  hear  the  half- 
stifled  mutterings,  Why  should  he  marry,  and  thus  increase  his  own 
expenses,  and  the  burdens  of  the  parish  1  Or,  if  matrimony  were 
expedient,  why  not  take  counsel  of  some  one  more  capable  than 
himself  of  deciding  who,  among  his  acquauitances,  would  be  most 
suitable  for  a  rector's  wife?  Whether  he  was  right  in  these  con- 
jectures, or  not,  they  doubtless  had  their  influence,  perhaps  an  undue 
influence,  on  his  feelings. 

On  the  10th  of  April,  he  writes  as  follows:  "My  position  in 
the  parish  is  stronger  than  ever.  But  my  recent  experience  con- 
vinces me  that,  like  all  my  predecessors,  I  have  some  sjjirits  to  deal 
with  that  are  not  to  be  depended  on.  I  should  be,  therefore,  sorry 
to  have  any  opening  closed  against  me,  from  any  supposed  reluctance 
on  my  part  to  entertain  it  favorably.  Let  your  correspondent,  there- 
fore, be  apprized  tliat  I  am  not  given  to  change,  that  I  have  never 
sought  any,  but  that  I  feel  at  times  a  responsibility  to  God  and  the 
Church  for  larger  measures  of  usefulness  than  I  have  even  any 
prospect  of  being  able  to  expect  here  ;  and  that  I  should  be  disposed 
to  listen,  with  a  very  partial  ear,  to  any  distinct  overture  from  that 
pleasant  parish  [Auburn]  whenever  it  is  vacant.  Till  then,  of  course, 
nothing  can  with  propriety  be  said.  I  respect  the  present  incum- 
bent, and  regret  tliat  his  health  is  no  better." 

On  the  following  day,  he  found  it  necessary  to  seek  his  father's 
counsel,  in  consequence  of  a  proposal  received  from  Bishop  De 
Lancey,  of  Western  New  York.  It  appears  that  in  a  recent  letter 
written  to  the  bishop,  in  behalf  of  a  young  brother,  who  was  about 
to  visit  his  diocese,  he  remarked  at  the  close,  that  he  did  not  know 
how  soon  he  might  have  occasion  to  icrite  on  his  own  account.  On 
this  hint,  the  bishop  wrote  as  follows:  "Our  friend,  Re>  Mr. 
Hackley,  at  Auburn,  thinks  of  leaving  his  church,  for  the  more 
31 


242  MEMOIR  OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1840. 

congenial  occupation  of  teaching  a  school.  I  should  be  rejoiced  to 
see  you  in  his  place  at  Auburn.  Would  you  listen  to  proposals  ? 
Can  you  visit  the  place  and  look  at  it  ?  The  salary  is  eight  hun- 
dred dollars,  with  a  parsonage.  I  write  all  this  on  the  hint  at  the 
close  of  your  letter.  Mr.  Hackley  will  doubtless  write  to  you, 
should  he  resign  ;  and  I  trust  you  will  view  the  case  favorably." 
He  writes  to  his  father,  "  I  am  disposed  to  reply  to  this  direct  prop- 
osition, as  directly  and  plainly,  that  there  was  a  time  when  I  did 
not  think  to  leave  here  for  life ;  but  that,  for  reasons  of  which  it  is 
not  necessary  to  speak,  I  am  free  to  say,  that  though  •!  would  not 
appear  before  the  people  of  Auburn  as  a  candidate,  yet  I  would 
not  decline  a  suitable  invitation,  without  first  visiting  the  parish,  and 
giving  a  mutual  opportunity  to  ascertain  how  we  were  suited  to  each 
other.  I  shall  wait  to  hear  from  you  before  replying,  and  take  your 
advice." 

Having  received  a  note  of  approval  from  his  father,  he  subse- 
quently writes,  "  I  have  just  written  to  Bishop  De  Lancey,  as  I 
proposed  to  do.  It  costs  me  some  effort  to  come  to  the  conclusion ; 
for  my  heart  cleaves  here,  however  ray  judgment  points  elsewhere. 
The  consideration  of  being  within  the  reach  of  his  '  friendly  crook,' 
as  I  have  told  him,  operates  powerfully  with  me.  The  journey,  I 
have  no  doubt,  will  be  a  pleasant  and  profitable  one,  whatever  the 
result  may  be." 

These  incipient  movements  are  thus  particularly  recorded,  that  no 
room  may  be  left  for  misapprehension  or  misrepresentation.  It  is 
proper  in  this,  as  in  all  other  cases,  that  he  should  tell  his  own  story  ; 
leaving  others  to  draw,  from  his  own  avowals,  such  proofs  as  they  may 
warrant  of  his  ingenuousness  and  disinterestedness,  and  of  his 
earnest  desire  to  avoid  all  just  occasion  of  offence. 

Writing  on  Tuesday  in  Easter  week,  after  speaking  of  the  weather 
on  Easter  day,  as  being  "in  fine  harmony  with  the  services,"  he 
adds,  "  Every  body  seemed  to  enjoy  them,  and  Easter  reigned  un- 
disputed the  Queen  of  Festivals.  With  me,  it  of  course  mingled 
much  with  other  feelings,  subduing  and  softening  them,  that  it  was 
perhaps  the  last  Easter  which  I  should  spend  here.  I  have  said 
nothing  to  any  one  here,  except  my  warden,  Mr.  Farley,  of  what 
I  expect  from  Auburn,  nor  shall  I,  until  I  receive  a  formal  invitation. 
It  will  take  the  parish  very  much  by  surprise ;  and  will,  to  the  best 
part,  if  not  the  whole,  be  a  source  of  unaffected  sorrow.  Their 
action  will  probably  determine  the  question."  Meanwhile  he  sought 
the  counsel  of  many  of  his  friends  and  brethren  abroad,  and  patiently 
waited  the  result. 

On  another  important  point  he  now  speaks  undisguisedly  :  "  It 
will  be  distinctly  understood,  as  soon  as  I  make  any  declarations  on 
the  subject,  that  I  do  not  go  to  Auburn,  or  any  where  else,  as  an 
unmarried  man." 


1840.]  CHRIST   CHURCH.  243 

These  preliminaries  prepare  the  way,  for  placinjj^  on  record  the 
official  transactions  connected  with  his  removal  from  the  i)arish. 
The  following  communication  was  received  on  *he  2d  of  May :  — 

Auburn,  .^pril  28,  1840. 
The  Rev.  William  Cro swell. 

Dear  Sir:  In  commnnicating  to  you  the  enclosed  resolutions  of  our 
vestry,  adopted  under  the  advice  of^ur  bishop,  it  gives  us  additional  pleas- 
ure to  assure  you,  that  your  call  to  this  parish  is  made  with  the  unanimous 
concurrence  of  all  the  members,  those  absent  as  well  as  present  at  the 
meeting,  and  in  conformity  to  the  wish  of  the  parish  whom  we  represent. 
We  would,  for  that  and  other  reasons,  earnestly  urge  your  acceptance  of  it, 
believing  that  it  will  be  most  satisfactorily  settling  the  question,  oftentimes 
delicate  and  agitating  to  parishes,  which  has  a  second  time  arisen  in  our  par- 
ish since  the  ever-lamented  death  of  Rev.  Mr.  Lucas,  our  former  rector. 

At  the  same  time,  we  beg  leave  to  state  to  you,  that  it  is  very  desirable 
that  your  settlement  over  us  should  be  with  a  knowledge  on  your  part  of  the 
parish  and  people  committed  to  your  charge,  so  that  we  may  count,  on  both 
sides,  upon  permanency  in  the  arrangements,  such,  as  we  trust,  a  mutual  ac- 
quaintance will  lead  to.  We  therefore,  by  direction  of  the  vestry,  invite  you 
to  visit  us  at  your  earliest  convenience,  and  to  spend  such  time  as  will  enable 
you  to  act  with  full  personal  knowledge,  believing,  as  we  are  led  to  flatter 
ourselves,  that  a  mutual  acquaintance  will  add  inducements  to  your  accept- 
ance of  our  call. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Hackley  will  consent  to  continue  with  us  until  about  the 
1st  of  August,  if  your  convenience  would  thereby  be  promoted ;  and  in  ref- 
erence to  his  continuance,  it  is  desirable  to  hear  from  you,  or,  if  practicable, 
to  see  you  here  at  an  early  day.  At  the  time  of  his  resignation,  he  supposed 
it  incumbent  upon  him  to  repair  to  his  new  engagements  by  the  first  of  May  ; 
but  it  is  now  ascertained  that  he  can  remain  until  the  later  period.  Still,  it 
is  important  to  ascertain  early  whether  he  should  make  his  calculations  to 
remain  or  not. 

Hoping,  in  the  providence  of  God,  that  you  may  at  an  early  day  be  settled 
among  us  as  our  rector,  pleasantly  and  permanently. 
We  are,  sir,  with  respect  and  esteem, 

Your  friends  and  obedient  servants, 

G.  B.  THROOP,     > 

S.  H.  GOODWIN,  V  Com. 

A.  GRIDLEY,        ) 

The  following  were  the  enclosed  resolutions  :  — 

At  a  meeeting  of  the  vestry  of  St.  Peter's  Church,  in  Auburn,  held  at  the 
office  of  J.  H.  BosTwicK,  Esq.,  the  27th  day  of  April,  1840:  — 

Present,  Rev.  C.  W.  Hackley,  President;  Hon.  H.  Burt,  Senior  Warden; 
Hon.  G.  B.  Throop,  William  Swain,  H.  Bostwick,  S.  H.  Goodwin,  A. 
F.  Carpenter,  and  A.  Gridley,  Vestrymen. 

On  motion  of  G.  B.  Throop,  Esq.,  Resolved  unanimously,  That  the  Rev. 
William  Croswell,  of  Boston,  be,  and  is  hereby  invited  to  become  the 
Rector  of  St.  Peter's  Church,  in  Auburn. 

Also,  on  motion  of  H.  Burt,  Resolved,  That  G.  B.  Throop,  Stephen  A. 
Goodwin,  and  A.  Gridley,  be  a  committee  to  communicate  the  above  to 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Croswell,  and  to  make  such  further  communications  as  they 
may  deem  proper  and  in  accordance  with  the  expressed  views  and  wishes  of 
the  vestry. 

A  true  extract  from  the  minutes, 

A.  GRIDLEY, 
Clerk  of  the  Vestry  of  St.  Peter's  Church,  Auburn,  N.  Y. 


244  MEMOIR   OF  WILLLVM    CROSWELL.  [1840] 

Oi).  the  4th  of  May,  writing  to  his  father,  he  mentions  the  re- 
ceipt of  the  foregoing  communication,  and  states  that  he  had  shown 
it  to  one  or  two  fri*^  .ds  besides  the  wardens,  and  that  they  all  con- 
curred with  him  in  the  o]Mnion,  that  it  was  best  to  communicate  it 
through  the  wardens,  to  the  proprietors,  in  such  a  way  as  to  ascertain 
the  real  state  of  their  feelings.  He  accordingly  wrote  the  letter,  of 
which  the  following  is  a  copy  :  —    . 

Boston,  May  4,  1840. 
Messrs.  Robert  Farley  and  Frederick  H.  Stimpson,  Wardens  of  Christ 
Church,  Boston. 

My  Dear  Friends  :  On  Saturday  last,  I  received  the  enclosed  invitation 
to  the  rectorship  of  St.  Peter's  Church,  Auburn,  in  the  Western  Diocese  of 
New  York  ;  and  before  taking  any  action  upon  it,  I  lose  no  time  in  bringing 
it  to  your  notice,  and  through  you  to  that  of  the  proprietors,  this  day  con- 
vened.    My  reasons  are  these. 

It  is  now  eleven  years  since  I  came  to  this  church,  while  the  "  dew  of 
youth  "  was  still  upon  me,  and  entered  upon  my  duties  with  all  the  ardor  of 
a  first  love.  From  that  time  to  this,  I  have  never  had  any  other  idea  than 
that  of  identifying  myself  with  it  for  life  ;  and  not  only  have  sought  no 
change,  but  have  declined  several  overtures  from  abroad,  which,  in  the  opin- 
ion of  disinterested  friends,  I  should  have  consulted  my  usefulness  and  ad- 
vantage by  accepting.  Recognizing  distinctly  the  leadings  of  Providence 
which  brought  me  hither,  here  I  purposed  steadfastly  and  patientlj''  to  abide, 
in  the  spirit  of  the  Institution  office,  feeding  the  portion  of  the  flock  of 
Christ  intrusted  to  me,  until  I  should  be  called  to  give  an  account  of  my 
stewardship  to  the  Chief  Bishop  and  Sovereign  Judge  of  all  hereafter.  My 
heart  and  affections  still  cling  fondly  here,  and  the  very  vicissitudes  of  death 
and  time,  which  have  removed  so  many  from  among  us,  whose  countenance 
was  my  chief  earthly  encouragement,  have  given  an  endearing  consecration 
to  the  scene  of  my  past  labors.  No  clergyman  can  be  more  sensible  of  his 
insufficiency  for  the  arduous  duties  of  the  ministry,  and  of  his  own  manifold 
imperfections  ;  but  I  still  enjoy  the  consciousness  that  the  spiritual  welfare 
of  the  parish,  and  the  obligation  of  fidelity  to  souls,  have  ever  been  up- 
permost in  my  mind,  and  that  it  has  been  my  heart's  desire  to  spend  and  be 
spent  in  their  service. 

I  entertain  a  lively  and  grateful  sense  of  the  thousand  proofs  of  kindness 
and  esteem  received  from  my  parishioners,  individually  and  collectively, 
and  which  have  led  me  to  suppose  that  I  was  secure  of  their  continued  aflfec- 
tions.  In  this  respect,  however,  from  the  painful  information  of  which  you 
were,  a  few  weeks  since,  the  unwilling  organs,  I  am  apprehensive  that  I  may 
have  been  mistaken  ;  that  a  state  of  feeling  unknown  to  me  may  exist,  which 
threatens  the  permanency  of  my  relations,  and  may  make  the  dissolution  of 
the  pastoral  connection  expedient  and  desirable.  Should  this  be  the  case,  I 
trust  the  occasion  will  not  be  allowed  to  pass  without  a  distinct  intimation 
of  it,  in  order  that  I  may  be  able  to  act  in  the  premises  with  a  full  under- 
standing of  their  wishes  and  feehngs. 

To  whatever  conclusion  the  proprietors  may  come,  1  trust  it  will  be  in  that 
spirit  of  mutual  kindness  and  good  will  which  has  always  governed  our  rela- 
tions to  each  other,  and  a  title  to  which  I  trust  never  to  forfeit.  May  the 
great  Head  of  the  Church  so  guide  and  govern  them  in  their  delibera- 
tions, as  may  best  promote  the  permanent  prosperity,  harmony,  and  happiness 
of  this  home  of  our  common  afiections. 

With  sincerest  esteem,  your  friend  and  pastor, 

W.  CROSWELL. 

This  letter  was  presented  to  the  proprietors  at  the  close  of  their 


1840.]  CHRIST   CHURCH.  245 

anmml  meeting',  an<3,  as  might  have  heen  expected,  not  only  took 
tliem  by  surprise,  but  produced  some  little  agitation.  Its  tone  was 
calculated  to  disarm  hostility,  and  it  was  received  by  a  principal 
portion  of  the  meeting  in  a  kind  and  conciliatory  spirit ;  but  tiiere 
were  a  few  present  who  betrayed  strong  symptoms  of  disatiection. 
"  They  agreed,  however,"  he  adds  in  the  letter  to  his  father,  "  not 
to  act  precipitately,  and  will  meet  again  on  Thursday  evening,  (7th.) 
Meantime,  all  doubt  has  passed  from  my  mind  as  to  the  expedien- 
cy of  resigning ;  and  the  only  question  remaining  to  be  settled  is, 
as  to  the  time  and  manner.  On  this  point  I  am  not  yet  prepared 
to  decide  ;  but  shall  take  judicious  advice,  and  proceed  witli  all  the 
calmness  I  can  command.  I  foresee  that  the  final  step  will  cause 
great  excitement  in  the  parish  and  town,  for  my  friends  are  numer- 
ous and  influential ;  but  I  am  determined,  by  the  grace  of  God,  not 
to  be  excited  myself,  nor  be  responsible  for  excitement  in  others.  I 
intend  to  leave,  if  may  be,  without  an  enemy  behind ;  and  it  will 
not  be  my  fault  if  we  do  not  part  with  the  best  understanding  pos- 
sible. I  foresee  also  how  hard  it  will  be,  without  divine  strength,  to 
adhere  to  this  resolution ;  and  I  need  your  effectual  and  fervent 
prayer  in  my  behalf." 

On  the  7th,  the  adjourned  meeting  of  the  proprietors  was  accord- 
ingly held,  when  there  were  present,  in  person  and  by  proxy,  twen- 
ty-four voters;  and  the  following  resolutions  were  passed,  with  a 
single  dissenting  voice  :  — 

Whereas,  The  Rev.  William  Croswell,  rector  of  this  church,  by  a 
communication  made  to  the  wardens  on  the  4th  inst.,  states  that  he  has  re- 
ceived an  invitation  to  the  rectorship  of  St.  Peter's  Church,  Auburn,  N.  Y., 
and  requests  the  opinion  of  the  proprietors  in  relation  to  the  expediency  of 
his  accepting  the  same  ;  therefore. 

Resolved,  That  we  receive  this  communication  with  sincere  regret,  and 
deprecate  the  dissolution  of  his  present  pastoral  connection,  convinced  that, 
during  the  eleven  years  he  has  sustained  the  important  and  arduous  situation 
of  rector,  he  has  been  faithful  and  unremitting  in  his  exertions  to  advance, 
not  only  tlie  interests  of  the  parish,  but  those  of  the  church  at  large  in  the 
diocese,  with  a  single  eye  to  the  spiritual  welfare  of  the  souls  of  those  over 
whom  God  in  his  wise  providence  has  made  him  overseer ;  and  that  the  many 
sacrifices  he  has  made,  and  the  unbounded  liberality  he  has  shown,  entitle 
him  to  our  Avarmest  gratitude. 

Resolved,  That  a  committee,  to  consist  of  three  proprietors  and  the  war- 
dens, be  appointed  to  communicate  the  foregoing  resolution,  and  to  express 
more  fully  the  sentiments  of  the  proprietors  on  the  subject.  [Committee  ap- 
pointed, in  addition  to  the  wardens  —  Messrs.  Johw  Bacon,  H.  H.  Hugge- 
FORD,  and  E.  W.  Goddard.] 

In  discharging  the  duty  thus  assigned  '  to  them,  the  committee 
presented  the  following  letter  :  — 

Rev.  William  Croswell. 

Our  beloved  Friend  and  Pastor :  The  committee  appointed  at  the  last 
meeting  of  the  proprietors  of  Christ  Church  have  enclosed  the  resolutions 


246  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1840. 

then  passed  for  your  consideration.  In  so  doing,  they  conceive  they  dis- 
charge but  one  part  of  their  duty.  These  documents  will  constitute  a  part 
of  the  Church  records.  It  is  expedient,  therefore,  that  there  be  a  vrritten 
testimonial  of  the  sentiments  and  happy  feelings  with  which  your  parishioners 
regard  you. 

Were  your  own  wishes  alone  consulted,  this  might  be  omitted.  By  the 
unforeseen  events  of  the  future,  our  Church,  by  the  direction  of  a  benevolent 
Providence,  may  become  more  and  more  distinguished  as  its  numbers  in- 
crease.    Therefore  its  history  may  be  the  more  interesting. 

From  these  motives  we  deem  it  our  duty  to  enter  on  record  the  views  of 
the  committee,  and  through  them  what  they  believe  to  be  the  honest  and  sin- 
cere opinions  of  the  great  majority  of  the  proprietors  and  members  of  our 
Church.  We  speak  in  an  especial  manner  of  those  who  have  attended  since 
your  ordination ;  and  also  of  those  who  have,  at  a  subsequent  period,  con- 
nected themselves  to  our  Church. 

If  ever  it  fell  to  the  lot  of  a  parish  to  enjoy  the  most  disinterested,  devoted, 
and  self-sacrificing  pastor,  ours  has  been  blessed  with  it,  during  the  whole  of 
your  ministration,  beyond  example.  The  sacrifice  has  been  on  one  side 
alone.  The  only  return  we  can  make,  is  our  ardent  gratitude  and  love  to 
one  who  has  ever  been  an  anchor  to  our  hopes  and  a  comforter  to  our  souls. 
We  cannot,  dear  sir,  repress  these  spontaneous  indications  of  regard,  oth- 
erwise we  should  do  injustice  to  our  hearts. 

Your  assenting  to  remain,  will  encourage  and  animate  all  to  promote  that 
union  and  harmony,  without  which  no  church  can  be  at  peace. 
With  sentiments  of  much  esteem. 

We  sign  ourselves,  your  friends,  &c., 
JOHN  BACON, 
H.  H.  HUGGEFORD, 
ROBERT  FARLEY, 
FRED.  H.  STIMPSON, 
ELIAS  W.  GODDARD. 
Boston,  7th  May,  1840. 

This  communication  was  presented,  it  seems,  in  person,  by  the 
chairman  of  the  committee.  A  description  of  the  interview,  and  of 
its  effects  upon  the  rector,  must  be  given  in  his  own  language : 
"  The  chairman,  Mr.  Huggeford,  came  over  to  my  study,  and 
with  a  voice  tremulous  with  emotion,  and  in  a  style  of  most  impres- 
sive eloquence,  quite  overpowered  my  manhood.  I  felt  relieved  by 
the  first  gush  of  tears  which  I  have  shed  since  the  subject  has  been 
under  consideration,  and  all  bosoms  seemed  to  be  too  full  for 
utterance." 

In  addition  to  this  demonstration  of  hearty  good  will,  he  re- 
ceived other  assurances,  which  led  him  to  hesitate  in  his  decision, 
and  to  weigh  more  deliberately  the  question  of  his  removal.  "  I 
confess,"  he  says,  "  that  I  am  in  a  strait  betwixt  two  ;  to  depart  be- 
ing, on  many  accounts,  doubtless,  far  better,  while  to  remain  seems 
to  be  most  needful  for  those  here.  What  to  do  I  wot  not.  Visit 
Auburn  I  must,  in  redemption  of  my  pledge ;  and  that  fair  village 
may  make  a  conquest  of  all  my  reluctance."  Writing  again,  four 
days  later,  he  says,  "I  have  not  much  light  to  throw  on  my  affairs. 
The  proprietors  meet  on  Thursday,  to  receive  the  report  of  tlieir 
committee.     Their  own  resolutions  are  so  satisfactory,  and  the  feel- 


1840.]  CHRIST  CHURCH.  247 

ing  so  strong  in  my  favor  through  the  parish,  that  I  am  more  at  a 
loss  than  ever  what  I  ought  to  do.  I  need  ilhniiination.  Seek  it 
for  me.  I  cannot  keep  them  in  suspense  at  Auburn.  And  I  can- 
not leave  here  till  the  question  is  decided.  I  feel,  I  assure  you, 
greatly  embarrassed." 

This  embarrassment  was  doubtless  much  increased  by  the  receipt 
of  the  following  affectionate  address,  signed  by  more  than  eighty 
families  and  individuals,  among  the  regular  attendants  upon  his 
ministrations  :  — 

To  the  Rev.  William  Croswell,  Rector  of  Christ  Cliurch. 

Dear  Sir :  The  subscribers,  worshippers  at  Christ  Church,  have  learned, 
with  the  deepest  pain  and  regret,  that  you  have  'tendered  your '  esignation  as 
rector.  Having  been  permitted  to  enjoy  the  benefit  of  yonr  niinistration  for 
many  years,  and  witnessed  your  untiring  exertions  and  great  sacrifices  for 
the  interest,  temporal  as  well  as  spiritual,  of  the  Church  ;  and  feeling  the 
greatest  respect  and  affection  for  you  as  their  pastor,  and  believing  that 
your  leaving  at  any  time,  but  particularly  under  the  present  circumstances, 
would  be  of  serious  and  lasting  injury  to  the  Church,  they  are  desirous  of 
giving  you  this  testimonial  of  their  regard,  and  respectfully  urging  you  to 
reconsider  your  determination,  and  consent  to  remain  with  us,  assuring  you 
that  they  will  do  all  in  their  power  to  render  your  situation  as  happy  and 
pleasant  to  you  in  all  your  relations  as  they  trust  your  remaining  will  be 
profitable  to  them  and  the  Church. 

Previous  to  the  adjourned  meeting  of  the  proprietors  to  hear  the 
report  of  their  committee,  he  addressed  the  following  note  to  the 
chairman  :  — 

Boston,  May  14,  1840. 
H.  H.  HuGGEFORD,  Esq.,  Chairman  of  a  Committee  of  Proprietors  of  Christ 
Church. 

My  dear  Sir :  Nothing  could  be  more  gratifying  to  me  than  the  terms  of 
the  resolutions  adopted  by  the  proprietors  of  Christ  Church,  at  their  meet- 
ing on  the  7th  inst.,  unless  it  were  the  manner  in  which  their  sentiments 
were  conveyed  to  me,  on  the  same  evening,  by  yourself  and  the  other  gen- 
tlemen of  the  committee  associated  with  you.  Were  I  to  yield  to  my  present 
impressions,  I  beg  to  assure  you  that  they  would  be  decisive  in  favor  of  my 
remaining  in  a  situation  that  was  never  more  endeared  to  me.  At  the  same 
tune  the  question  is  one  which  has  so  momentous  a  bearing  on  the  pennanent 
interests  of  the  parish,  as  well  as  my  own  personal  prospects  for  life,  that  it 
ought  not  to  be  settled  without  great  deliberation.  I  hope,  therefore,  it  will 
not  seem  unreasonable  if  I  ask  a  few  weeks'  delay  before  communicat- 
ing my  final  decision,  in  order  that  I  may  have  an  opportunity  of  consulting 
with  my  friends,  and  be  enabled  to  view  the  subject  in  all  its  aspects. 

With  every  sentiment  of  regard  and  affection  for  yourself  and  the  body 
whom  you  represent  on  this  occasion,  I  am,  very  sincerely. 

Your  friend  and  servant. 

W.  CROSWELL. 

May  15,  he  writes,  "  Every  thing  is  now  satisfactorily  adjusted. 
The  proprietors  met  last  evening  to  hear  the  report  of  their  com- 
mittee ;  and  all  things  appear  now  to  be  precisely  as  they  should 


248  MEMOm   OF  WILLIAM    CROSWELL.  [1840. 

be,  and  I  have  no  time  to  lose  in  making  my  arrangements  for 
visiting  Auburn." 

These  preUminaries  being  thus  settled,  he  next  announces,  on  the 
22d  of  May,  another  most  important  event  of  his  life,  —  his  betroth- 
ment  to  Miss  Amanda  Tarbell,  daughter  of  Silas  P.  Tarbell, 
Esq.,  a  young  lady  witli  whom  he  had  been  well  acquainted,  and  for 
whom  he  had  formed  a  strong  attachment. 

He  left  Boston  on  the  25th  of  May,  and  pursued  his  journey, 
taking  New  Haven  on  his  way,  from  whence  he  persuaded  his 
mother  to  accompany  him  as  far  as  Albany.  On  the  29th  he 
arrived  at  Auburn  ;  and  his  first  impressions  are  given  in  a  few 
lively  sketches,  which  are  detached  from  a  long  letter  addressed  to 
his  father,  on  the  1st  of  June  :  "  I  was  met  on  my  arrival  here  by 
three  or  four  of  the  principal  people.  The  first  impressions  seemed 
to  be  mutually  favorable.  I  confess  that  I  am  much  pleased  with 
every  thing.  The  place  is  pleasant  beyond  my  expectations.  The 
church  is  delightfully  situated,  withdrawn  from  the  street,  and 
bosomed  up  in  locust  trees,  which  are  now  in  full  flower  and  fra- 
grance. The  parsonage  hard  by,  and  all  its  arrangements,  just  about 
right.  Mrs.  Lucas  (widow  of  the  former  rector)  still  occupies  it, 
and  I  am  her  guest.  .  .  .  The  congregation  yesterday  was 
large  and  intelligent,  and  seemed  to  be  well  satisfied  with  the  ser- 
vices. ...  I  have  seen  enough  to  satisfy  me  that  an  humble- 
minded  man  might  spend  his  days  happily  and  usefully  here ;  and 
if,  on  my  return  to  Boston,  I  find  it,  as  I  probably  shall,  'expedient 
that  I  go  away,'  I  shall  not  be  disposed  to  look  any  farther. 
The  interior  of  the  church  rather  disappoints  me.  It  is 
not  in  keeping  with  all  without  ;  but  the  arrangements  have  rather 
a  common  air.  The  monument  of  Bishop  Hobart,  and  his  bust, 
however,  glorify  it,  and  make  it  worth  a  pilgrimage  to  see.  His 
spirit  seems  to  brood  over  the  house  [the  parsonage]  wherein  he 
died,  and  where  Lucas  followed  him  to  his  rest. 

'  The  chamber  where  the  good  man  meets  his  fate 
Is  privileged  above  the  common  walks.' 

You  perceive  that  a  change  has  come  over  the  spirit  of  my  dream 
since  I  left  New  Haven.  My  health  and  heart  seem  to  be  better. 
A  burden  is  lifted  off  from  my  mind.  The  weather  is  delightful, 
and  the  airs  of  this  sweet  little  town  are  singularly  refreshing,  and 
seem  to  make  it,  indeed,  '  the  loveliest  village  of  the  plain.'  " 

His  next  letter  confirms  all  that  he  has  said  of  his  favorable  im- 
pressions in  the  foregoing,  and  he  concludes  to  remain  over  a 
second  Sunday.  He  again  writes,  on  the  12th,  from  New  York, 
giving  his  reasons  for  not  returning  by  the  way  of  New  Haven,  and 
expressing  his    full    conviction   that  it  is   expedient  to  remove  to 


1840.]  CHRIST  CHURCH.  349 

Auburn,  with  as  little  delay  as  possible  :  "  Unless  something  occurs 
to  change  my  determination  which  I  cannot  now  foresee,  I  shall 
resign  the  rectorship  at  once,  get  married  forthwith,  and  push  for 
Auburn  early  in  July.  I  do  not  yet  know  what  reception  I  shall 
meet  with  in  Boston.  In  any  event  I  have  a  trying  ordeal  to  pass 
through ;  but  I  believe  I  am  nerved  for  the  issue." 

It  was  amidst  the  trying  scenes  of  this  moment  that  the  return- 
ing festival  of  St.  John  the  Baptist  brought  vividly  to  his  mind  and 
feelings  the  eleventh  anniversary  of  his  institution  to  the  rectorship 
i)f  Christ  Church.  Under  the  circumstances,  it  was  a  day  of  double 
solemnity  to  him  ;  and  he  dedicated  it  to  a  sacred  purpose.  In  the 
cloisters  of  that  church,  where  he  had  so  long  ministered,  and  of 
which  he  was  now  about  to  take  his  final  leave,  he  penned  the  fol- 
lowing touching  lines.  They  were  enclosed  to  a  highly-valued 
friend  and  correspondent,  the  late  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Sumner,  of 
Hartford,  and  are  inserted  here,  as  their  most  appropriate  place. 


ST.  JOHN  BAPTIST'S  DAY. 

It  was  a  solemn  day  to  me. 

This  twenty-fourth  of  June, 
Eleven  years  ago ;  alas, 

That  they  have  passed  so  soon ! 
And  often  as  it  comes  about, 

I  meditate  thereon, 
And  strive  to  follow,  as  I  may, 

Christ's  herald,  good  St.  John. 

It  was  a  solemn  place  to  me, 

That  sanctuary  old. 
Where  still  we,  after  sixscore  years, 

The  same  high  service  hold. 
And  still  'tis  good,  amid  the  change 

That  sweeps  o'er  all  beside. 
To  know  that  while  these  walls  shall  stand, 

That  service  shall  abide. 

How  many  who  were  present  then 

Sleep  in  their  tombs  below ! 
How  many  to  their ^istant  posts 

Have  gone  as  I  now  go ! 
Of  all  the  crowds  that  then  were  here, 

How  few  are  left  behind  ! 
And  of  that  few,  how  fewer  still 

Who  call  that  scene  to  mind. 
32 


250  MEMOIR  OF  WILLIAM   CKO.SWELL.  [1840. 

To  me  it  is  as  yesterday  ; 

I  see  the  whole  proceed  — 
The  bishop  and  the  brethren  round, 

Who  come  to  bid  "  God  speed  ! " 
The  holy  altar,  then  withdrawn 

Deep  in  its  own  recess. 
Ere  desk  and  pulpit  crowded  in, 

To  make  its  honors  less. 

O,  it  was  not  in  mockery 

That  then  I  ofFered  there, 
In  weakness,  fear,  and  trembling  tones. 

The  institution  prayer. 
How  often,  as  I've  paced  those  aisles 

At  sacred  hours  alone, 
Have  I  recited  o'er  that  prayer. 

To  God  is  truly  known  ! 

How  little  thought  the  warden  gray. 

That  aught  but  death,  the  keys 
Surrendered  by  his  faithful  hand, 

Should  ever  wrest  from  these  ; 
That  e'er  this  ancient  fold  should  count 

Their  broken  pledge  no  sin, 
Or  part,  for  trifling  cause,  the  bonds 

Of  God's  own  discipline. 

Dear  Church  !  as  now  that  tender  charge 

I  solemnly  resign. 
Some  bleeding  hearts  will  testify 

The  fault  has  not  been  mine  ! 
For  who  could  hear  thy  heavenly  chime 

With  gladder  heart  than  I  ? 
Who  love  thee  with  a  fonder  love. 

Or  in  thy  service  die  ? 

God  raise  thee  up  some  faithful  man, 

More  prompt  to  follow  on. 
In  doctrine  and  in  holy  life, 

Christ's  herald,  good  St.  John  ! 
Give  him  all  boldness  to  rebuke. 

And  skill  thy  griefs  to  cure. 
And  for  his  heavenly  Master's  sake, 

All  patience  to  endure  ! 


1840.]  RESIGNATION  OF   CHRIST   CHURCH.  251 

Pursuant  to  the  purpose  already  suggested  in  his  private  corre 
spondence,  he  addressed,  on  his  return  from  Auburn,  the  following 
letter  to  the  committee  :  — 

BosTOPr,  June  19,  1840. 
Messrs.  Bacon,  Huggf.ford,  Goddard,  Farley,  and  Stimpson,  Committee 
of  the  Proprietors  of  Christ  Church. 
My  dear  Friends :  After  mature  deliberation,  and  conference  with  judicious 
friends,  here  and  elsewhere,  not  without  earnest  prayer  for  the  divine  guid- 
ance, I  have  come  reluctantly  to  the  conclusion  to  request  the  proprietors  to 
accept  my  resig-nation  of  the  rectorship  of  Christ  Church,  on  the  last  day  of 
the  present  month.  However  my  judgment  may  dictate  this  course,  it  has 
cost  me  a  painful  effort  of  feeling  which  I  cannot  trust  myself  to  express. 
Allow  me,  however,  to  assure  you,  that  wherever  Providence  may  cast  my  lot, 
the  interests  and  welfare  of  this  ancient  heritage  of  God  will  ever  be  near  to 
my  heart,  and  that  I  shall  always  bear  upon  my  memory  the  recollections  of 
my  imperfect  but  well-meant  ministrations  here  as  the  happiest  employment 
of  my  past  life.  Permit  me  also  to  commend  you,  and  all  its  members,  to 
God's  most  holy  keeping.  I  pray  that  you  may  be  guided  in  the  choice  of 
a  successor  who  will  as  entirely  unite  your  confidence  and  regard,  and  whose 
labors  will  be  crowned  with  much  more  abundant  success.  Above  all,  may 
we  so  part,  that  the  hallowed  ties  cemented  by  the  intercourse  of  the  last 
eleven  years  may  never  be  severed,  but  that  hereafter,  when  all  the  changes 
and  chances  of  this  mortal  life  are  over,  we  may  once  more  rejoice  together, 
with  all  tlie  dispersed  sheep  of  Christ's  flock,  as  one  fold  under  one  Shepherd, 
in  the  everlasting  kingdom  of  God's  dear  Son.  Amen. 
With  the  yearnings  of  sincere  affection. 

Your  friend  and  pastor, 

W.  CROSWELL. 


P.  S.  I  propose  to  take  leave  of  the  parish,  with  the  approbation  of  the 
proprietors,  on  Sunday  morning,  July  5,  and  to  celebrate  with  them  for  the 
last  time,  in  my  present  capacity,  the  affecting  mysteries  of  the  Holy  Com- 


The    action  of   the  proprietors   on  this  letter  is  thus  officially 
recorded :  — 


At  an  adjourned  meeting  of  the  proprietors  of  Christ  Church,  Boston,  held 
on  the  evening  of  the  29th  of  June,  1840,  the  wardens  and  a  large  number 
of  the  proprietors  were  present. 

The  chairman  stated,  that  the  object  of  the  meeting  was  for  the  consid- 
eration, and  acting  finally,  upon  the  application  of  the  Rev.  William  Cros- 
WELL  to  the  proprietors  to  accept  of  his  resignation  as  rector  of  Christ 
Church. 

The  question  being  called  for,  was  decided  by  yeas  and  nays,  in  the  aflarm- 
iitivc,  in  the  following  words,  to  wit:  — 

Voted,  To  accept  the  resignation  of  the  Rev.  William  Cro swell,  as  the 
rector  of  this  church,  when  the  official  sanction  (necessary  in  such  cases) 
shall  have  been  given  by  the  bishop. 

Voted,  That  the  wardens  be  authorized  to  communicate  to  the  Rev.  Wil- 
liam Croswell,  rector  of  this  church,  the  acceptance  of  his  resignation  by 
tlie  proprietors. 


252  MEMOm  OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1840. 

The  wardens,  in  discharging  the  duty  thus  committed  to  them, 
addressed  the  following  affectionate  letter  to  the  retiring  rector  :  — 

Boston,  July  18,  1840. 

Rev.  a]Sd  dear  Sir  :  Having  been  appointed  a  committee  for  the  purpose  of 
answering  your  communication  of  the  IMi  ult.,  requesting  the  proprietors  of 
Christ  Church  to  accept  your  resignation  as  rector,  it  has  become  our  duty  to 
enclose  a  copy  of  the  resolutions  adopted  by  the  proprietors,  at  their  meeting 
on  the  29th  ult.,  by  which  you  will  perceive  they  have  complied  with  your 
request. 

That  this  duty  is  a  painful  one,  you,  who  so  well  know  our  feelings,  can 
well  judge.  We  deeply  regret  that  any  circumstances  should  have  occurred 
to  render  it  expedient  to  dissolve  a  connection  which  it  was  hoped  would 
have  terminated  only  with  your  life. 

But  the  ways  of  Providence  are  inscrutable  ;  and  may  He  in  whose  hands 
we  all  are,  overrule  for  good  to  you  and  us,  this  which  now  appears  so  great 
an  evil. 

May  His  choicest  blessings  attend  you  in  all  your  future  connections. 
May  He  in  mercy  keep  and  guide  you,  until  at  last,  having  finished  your 
course  with  joy,  having  been  made  the  happy  instrument  of  turning  many  to 
righteousness,  you  may  be  admitted,  with  those  other  luminaries  who  have 
preceded  you  in  laboring  in  this  portion  of  God's  vineyard,  to  shine  in  the 
kingdom  of  God  your  Father,  and  with  them,  and  all  those  over  whom  you  . 
have  so  faithfully  labored,  enjoy  forever  his  blissful  presence. 
With  sentiments  of  the  greatest  respect  and  affection. 
We  are,  dear  sir,  your  friends, 

ROBERT  FARLEY,   ?  w  -q  o 
FRED.  H.  STIMPSON,  \  ^^ardens. 

To  Rev.  William  Croswell. 


These  official  papers  are  thus  spread  upon  these  pages,  as  the 
unbiassed  testimony  of  the  people  of  his  cure,  in  their  collective 
capacity,  to  his  pastoral  fidelity,  and  to  his  eminent  qualifications 
for  the  place  which  he  had  so  long  held  among  them.  One  more 
voluntary  and  aff*ecting  token  of  love  and  veneration,  received  from 
a  select  number  of  his  highly  esteemed  parishioners,  on  the  day  pre- 
vious to  his  leave-taking  discourse,  may  fitly  be  recorded  in  this 
place. 

To  Rev.  William  Croswell. 

Dear  Sir :  The  subscribers,  a  few  of  your  numerous  friends  and  parish- 
ioners, with  feelings  of  the  deepest  and  unfeigned  sorrow  at  the  separation 
which  is  about  to  take  place,  and  tendering  you  their  best  wishes  and  earnest 
prayers  for  your  happiness  in  the  new  relations,  parochial  and  matrimonial, 
you  are  about  to  form,  respectfully  request  your  acceptance  of  the  accompa- 
nying CUP,  as  a  small  token  of  their  respect  and  affection  for  you,  and  their 
desire  to  be  had  in  remembrance. 

R.  M.  COPELAND, 
C.  P.  GORDON, 
JAMES   PIERCE, 
E.  W.  GODDARD 
FRED.  H.  STIMPSON. 
Boston,  July  3,  1840. 

On  Sunday,  the  5th  of  July,  agreeably  to  the  notice  given  to 
the  proprietors,  he  took  leave  of  his  people  in  a  farewell  discourse 


1840.]  PARTING   TESTIMONIALS.  253 

Writing  to  his  father  on  the  7th,  he  speaks  of  this  valedictory  in  the 
following  terms:  The  church  was  thronged,  and  the  congregation 
were  generally  in  tears.  "  It  was,  indeed,"  he  says,  "  a  moving 
scene,  and  every  indication  of  the  most  unaffected  sorrow  was  visible 
on  every  hand.  The  communion  was  never  before  so  large  on  any 
occasion.  In  the  afternoon,  the  members  of  the  other  societies 
poured  in,  in  great  numbers,  supposing  that  the  farewell  discourse 
was  to  be  delivered  then.  Though  disappointed  in  that  respect, 
they  heard  a  capital  sermon  from  brother  Boyle,  who  spoke  in  a 
few  words,  of  myself  and  services,  in  a  manner  which  it  would  have 
gratified  a  parent  to  hear.  It  was  a  great,  however  sad,  day  to  me  ; 
and  I  am  receiving  constantly,  from  every  quarter,  the  most  touching 
testimonies  of  respect  and  regard,  and  sorrow  for  my  departure. 
My  correspondents  are  particularly  kind."  He  speaks  with  peculiar 
emotion  of  the  "  beautiful  cup  "  which  he  had  just  received. 

From  a  mass  of  testimonials,  and  notes  of  kindness  and  affection, 
which  are  found  on  his  well-arranged  files,  a  few  only  can  be  selected 
as  samples  of  the  whole.  The  following,  from  the  bishop  and 
clergy  of  Boston  and  vicinity,  must  have  been  exceedingly  grateful 
to  his  feelings  :  — 

Boston,  July  11,  1840. 
Rev.  and  dear  Sir  :  It  is  witli  deep  regret,  that  the  undersigned,  youi 
brethren  in  the  ministry,  have  learned  that  you  have  taken  leave  of  the  parish, 
in  which  you  have  so  long,  so  faithfully,  and  so  acceptably  labored,  and  are 
soon  to  take  your  departure  for  another  diocese.  In  this  sentiment  all,  we 
believe,  who  have  the  pleasure  of  knowing  you,  will  be  ready  to  share.  Per- 
mit us,  on  this  occasion,  to  express  our  unfeigned  respect  and  esteem  for  your 
character  and  accomplishments  as  a  scholar,  a  gentleman,  and  a  Christian 
pastor,  as  well  as  a  true  friend  of  our  Apostolic  Church,  We  shall  not  soon 
nor  easily  forget  your  cheerful  cooperation  and  valuable  aid,  in  promoting 
the  cause  of  piety,  virtue,  and  charity,  in  our  Church  and  community  ;  nor 
your  willingness  as  a  citizen,  to  take  your  part  in  advancing  the  interests  of 
education  in  this  metropolis,  or  in  any  measures  conducive  to  the  public 
welfare. 

Be  assured,  reverend  and  dear  sir,  that  we  shall  rejoice  to  hear  of  your  suc- 
cess and  prosperity  wherever  Providence  may  direct  your  steps,  and  shall  sym- 
pathize in  any  trials  you  may  be  called  to  endure.  May  you  be  happy  in  your 
domestic  and  other  relations,  and  after  having  long  and  successfully  served 
your  divine  Master  on  earth,  have  at  last  the  joyful  salutation,  "  Well  done, 
good  and  faithful  servant ;  enter  thou  into  the  joy  of  thy  Lord." 
Your  affectionate  friends, 

ALEXANDER  V.  GRISWOLD, 
ISAAC   BOYLE, 
lOHN  L.  WATSON, 
ALFRED   L.  BAURY, 
E.  M.  P.  WELLS, 
JOHN  S.  STONE, 
THOMAS   M.  CLARK, 
THEODORE  EDSON, 
JOSEPH   A.  CLINCH, 
ADDISON  SEARLE, 
SAMUEL   McBURNEY. 
Rev.  William  Croswell. 


254  MEMOIR   OF   WILIJAM   CROSWELL.  [1840 

The  Right  Rev.  Bishop  Griswolb,  his  diocesan,  unwilhng,  as  it 
would  seem,  to  restrict  himself  to  the  formal  terms  of  the  ordinary 
letter  dismissory,  thus  commends  him  to  his  brother,  the  bishop 
of  the  western  diocese  of  New  York  :  — 

To  the  Right  Rev.  William  H.  De  Lancey. 

Dear  Sir  :  The  object  of  this  is  to  transfer  from  the  state  of  Massachusetts 
to  your  diocese,  the  Rev.  William  Croswell.  Merely  to  say,  that  for  the 
three  years  last  past,  he  has  not  been  justly  liable  to  evil  report  for  error  in 
doctrine,  or  viciousness  of  life,  though  eminently  true,  seems,  in  his  case, 
very  unnecessary.  He  will  leave  behind  him  no  clergyman  of  the  Protestant 
Episcopal  Church  more  highly,  more  justly,  or  more  generally  esteemed  for 
the  qualities  which  constitute  and  adorn  the  gentleman,  the  scholar,  or 
the  faithful  minister  of  Christ.  While,  with  many  hundreds  of  others,  I 
deeply  regret  his  loss  to  this  diocese,  I  may  well  congratulate  you  on  such 
an  accession  to  yours.  That  in  his  new  situation  he  may  find  friends,  as 
many  and  as  cordial  as  those  he  leaves,  is  the  prayer  of 
Your  friend  and  brother, 

ALEX.  V.  GRISWOLD, 

Bishop  of  the  Eastern  Diocese. 

Boston,  July  17,  1840. 

To  these,  it  is  peculiarly  gratifying  to  add  the  following  letters 
from  the  Rev.  Dr.  Strong,  of  Greenfield,  a  beloved  brother,  with 
whom  he  had  maintained  the  most  intimate  relations  during  his  res- 
idence in  Boston :  — 

Boston,  June  20,  1840. 

Rev.  and  dear  Brother  :  As  we  are  about  to  separate,  under  circumstances 
of  peculiar  and  painful  interest,  and  as  our  associations  will  not,  probably,  be 
renewed  in  this  part  of  the  Master's  vineyard,  I  cannot  leave  the  city  without 
taking  the  liberty  of  expressing  to  you,  in  what  you  may  perhaps  consider 
rather  a  formal  manner,  but  in  truth  from  the  overflowings  of  an  afl^ectionate 
and  grateful  heart,  the  deep  sense  of  obligation  which  I  feel,  for  the  share 
which  I  have  been  allowed  to  enjoy,  for  more  than  ten  years,  in  your  friend- 
ship, and  for  the  continued,  though  unmerited  kindness,  wliich  I  have  received 
at  your  hands.  Very  pleasant  hast  thou  been  unto  me,  my  brother ;  and 
while  memory  lasts,  the  most  delightful  of  my  reflections  will  rest  upon  the 
scenes  of  our  intercourse.  Nor  will  it,  I  trust,  be  without  some  degree  of 
spiritual  improvement,  that  we  have  so  often  taken  sweet  counsel  together, 
and  walked  to  the  house  of  God  in  company.  In  unity  of  sentiment  and  of 
desire,  of  solicitude  and  of  purpose,  we  have  labored  for  the  welfare  of  Zion  ; 
and  from  the  views  that  we  have  cherished,  and  the  atmospliere  that  we  have 
breathed  in  common,  I  cannot  doubt  that  a  salutary  influence  has  gone  forth 
to  direct  and  sustain  us,  in  the  paths  of  our  pilgrimage  to  eternity.  I  could 
have  wished  that  no  change  might  take  place  in  our  relations  to  the  Church 
in  Massachusetts ;  but  from  an  acquaintance  with  all  things  involved  in  the 
case,  I  am  satisfied  that  you  have  come  to  a  wise  and  just  decision.  May 
the  Spirit  of  God  order  it  for  the  promotion  of  your  own  happiness,  and  the  ad- 
vancement of  the  Redeemer's  cause.  And  be  assured,  my  beloved  friend  and 
brother,  that  wherever  you  go,  and  however  you  may  be  situated,  there  is 
one,  among  your  many  admirers,  whose  prayers  for  your  prosperity  and  your 
usefulness  will  never  cease. 

I  know  not  where  to  look  for  the  counsel  and  the  aid  which  I  have  so  long 
been  accustomed  to  receive  from  you  ;  but  He  who  ordereth  all  things  aright 
will  uphold  us  in  our  trials,  and  relieve  us  in  our  wants.  To  Him,  and 
tlie  word  of  His  grace,  I  commend  you ;  and  may  He  so  direct  our  course, 


1840.]  PARTING  TESTIMONIALS.  2SS 

that  among  all  tlie  changes  and  chances  of  this  mortal  life,  we  may  so  live, 
that  when  the  cares  and  the  sorrows,  the  duties  and  the  dangers,  of  our 
present  state  are  over,  we  may  be  united  in  the  rich  inheritance  of  his  ever- 
lasting kingdom. 

Most  sincerely  and  affectionately, 

Your  unchanging  friend  and  brother, 

T.  STRONG. 

Greenfield,  July  8,  1840. 

Mt  dearest  friend  and  Brother  :  I  cannot  express  to  you  my  grati- 
tude for  yonr  kindness,  and  the  sympathy  that  I  feel  in  your  trials,  renewed 
in  the  reception  of  those  beautiful  lines,*  which  I  shall  treasure  up  as  a 
precious  gift  of  your  love,  and  a  most  faithful  transcript  of  your  mind.  You 
have,  ere  this,  I  suppose,  experienced  all  the  bitterness  of  the  parting  scene, 
and  I  think  the  members  of  your  late  parish  must,  without  exception,  be  filled 
with  sorrow  and  distress.     .     .     . 

The  connection  that  has  existed  so  long  and  so  prosperously  between 
yourself  and  Christ  Church  is  now  dissolved  ;  and  it  must  be  a  cause  of 
great  satisfaction  to  you  that  it  has  been  brought  about  without  any  seeking 
or  fault  on  the  part  of  the  rector,  and  that  you  go  hence  with  the  unchanged 
affection  and  best  wishes  of  those  whose  opinions  and  friendship  you  most 
value. 

I  have  no  doubt  that  you  will  leave  your  accustomed  associations,  the 
places  and  the  people  in  which  you  have  for  many  years  delighted,  with  no 
ordinary  sensations  of  regret :  but  the  consciousness  of  integrity  in  relation 
to  the  past,  and  the  prospect  of  distinguished  usefulness  in  view  of  the  fu- 
ture, will  be  sufficient  to  comfort  and  sustain  you.  May  the  Spirit  of  God 
be  your  unfailing  attendant,  guiding  you  through  all  the  changes  and  chances 
of  this  mortal  life,  and  rendering  you  instrumental  in  turning  multitudes  from 
darkness  to  light,  and  from  the  power  of  sin  and  Satan  to  the  living  God. 

I  hope,  my  dear  brother,  that  you  will  not  forget,  in  the  place  of  your  west- 
ern labors,  to  turn  your  thoughts  occasionally  towards  the  rising  of  the  sun. 
I  shall  expect  to  hear  from  you  after  your  settlement  in  the  pleasant  shades 
of  Auburn ;  and  I  need  not  assure  you  of  the  continuance  of  my  fervent 
prayers  for  your  prosperity  and  happiness.  Could  you,  in  passing  to  and  from 
Boston,  take  Greenfield  in  your  way,  you  may  be  certain  of  a  cordial  wel- 
come at  the  parsonage,  and  a  quiet  resting  place.  Farewell!  God  be 
with  you! 

Affectionately,  your  friend  and  brother, 

T.  STRONG. 

But  these  gratifying  testimonials  were  not  confined  solely  to  his 
clerical  brethren.  Several  laymen,  with  whom  he  had  maintained  a 
close  and  intimate  friendship,  —  such  as  Robert  Farley,  Esq.,  of 
his  own  parish,  George  Brinley,  Esq.,  formerly  of  Trinity  Church, 
but  residing  at  the  time  in  Hartford,  Dr.  A.  F.  Stone,  of  Greenfield, 
and  Edward  A.  Newton,  Esq.,  of  Pittsfield,  —  took  this  opportunity 
to  express  their  unfeigned  regret  at  the  necessity  of  his  removal,  and 
their  ardent  wishes  for  his  future  prosperity.  But  these  expressions 
are  so  mingled  with  personal  and  private  allusions,  that  it  would  be 
hardly  proper  to  make  extracts.  A  single  passage  may  be  detached 
from  a  letter  of  the  last-named  gentleman,  whose  zeal  and  liberality 
as  a  Churchman  and  a  Christian  are  well  known  throughout  the 
United  States. 

*  The  lines  entitled  «  St.  John  Baptist's  Day." 


256  MEMOIR  OF  \\r[LL.IAM   CROSWELL.  [1840. 

"  I  have  observed,  with  real  regret,  from  a  notice  of  the  pro- 
ceedings of  our  late  convention,  that  you  are  about  to  leave  the 
diocese.  You  will  carry  ^^ith  you  the  esteem  and  respect  of  all 
who  have  truly  known  you.  I  know  of  no  clergyman  in  the  diocese 
who  has  more  faithfully  discharged  his  duties,  and  oftentimes  under 
most  discouraging  circumstances.  I  pray  God  to  bless  you  abun- 
dantly in  all  the  new  relations  you  are  about  to  form ;  to  make  you 
happy,  and  continue  your  usefulness  here,  and  give  you  a  crown  of 
glory  in  the  world  to  come." 

He  alludes  feelingly  to  these  concluding  tokens  of  affection,  in 
his  last  letter  from  Boston  to  his  father,  July  13.  Even  at  this  mo- 
ment, it  is  perceived,  his  buoyant  spirit  does  not  forsake  him.  "  My 
position,"  he  says,  "  reminds  me  of  that  remarkable  character  in  one 
of  Prior's  ballads,  who,  being  so  unfortunate  as  to  come  into  collision 
with  the  laws, 

'  Now  fitted  the  halter,  now  traversed  the  cart, 
And  often  took  leave,  but  seemed  loath  to  depart' 

I  was  all  the  week  packing  goods  and  chattels,  and  it  was  not  till 
Saturday  that  they  were  shipped  for  the  forwarding  house  at  Albany. 
I  linger  therefore  yet  another  seven  days,  to  recruit  my  exhausted 
strength,  and  to  say  a  word  at  pai'ting  to  the  troops  of  friends,  in 
and  out  of  the  parish,  who  are  doing  every  thing  in  their  power  to 
make  my  last  days  truly  delightful.  If  any  thing  were  needed  to 
prove  that  my  ministry  here  has  not  been  entirely  in  vain,  it  is  in 
the  beautiful  exercise  of  Christian  affection  which  the  occasion  has 
called  out  in  every  quarter.  I  have  a  host  of  letters  from  my  corre- 
spondents all  about  me ;  and  under  circumstances  which  make  them 
tests  of  sincerity,  as  you  will  see  when  you  come  to  read  them." 

But  the  scene  now  changes  to  his  new  cure.  His  acceptance  of 
this  cure  was  conveyed  in  the  following  note,  addressed  to  the 
Committee  of  the  Vestry  :  — 

Boston,  Jidy  1,  1840. 
Gentlemen  :  In  accordance  with  the  expectations  held  out  during  my  late 
visit  to  Auburn,  you  are  hereby  authorized  to  inform  the  vestry  that  I  accept 
their  unanimous  invitation  to  become  the  rector  of  St.  Peter's  Church,  and 
purpose,  God  willing,  to  enter  on  the  service  of  the  parish  with  the  least 
possible  delay.  The  motives  which  have  led  me  to  this  decision  are  such, 
I  humbly  trust,  as  will  commend  themselves  to  the  divine  approval,  and  jus- 
tify the  hope  of  a  blessing  upon  the  proposed  connection.  Looking  to  the 
Great  Head  of  the  Church  as  the  Source  of  that  strength  which  is  alone  suf- 
ficient to  sustain  me  in  the  arduous  responsibilities  which  I  am  about  to 
assume,  I  feel  how  greatly  I  shall  need  the  exercise  of  your  most  charitable 
constructions,  and  throw  myself  upon  your  Christian  sympathies,  and  beg 
the  benefit  of  your  prayers. 

Most  sincerely. 

Your  friend  and  servant  in  the  gospel, 

WILLIAM  CROSWELL. 


1840.J  ARRIVAL   AT  .AUBURN.  257 

A  hasty  note  to  liis  father,  on  Thursday,  July  30,  announces 
his  safe  arrival  at  Auburn  ;  and  his  predecessor  havinj!^  already  left 
the  place,  his  effects  were  deposited  in  the  vacant  parsonage.  He 
met  with  a  flattering  reception  ;  and,  as  the  pulpit  had  been  unsup- 
plied  for  the  last  four  Sundays,  his  arrival  was  welcomed  with  every 
demonstration  of  gratification.  Of  his  opening  services,  as  rector  of 
the  parish,  he  thus  writes  under  date  of  August  4  :  "  Sunday  was  a 
trying  but  delightful  day.  The  people,  so  long  deprived  of  the  ser- 
vices, returned  to  the  sanctuary,  with  a  yearning  for  their  renewal, 
which  was  much  in  my  favor.  They  were  attentive  and  apparently 
gratified.  During  parts  of  the  service,  I  could  scarcely  restrain  my 
tears  ;  and  in  secret  prayer  before  sermon,  I  gave  way  to  emotion. 
1  was  able  to  command  myself  during  the  delivery,  though  I  could 
not  of  course  feel  quite  at  home.  It  was  another  funeral  discourse. 
They  watch  for  your  souls,  as  they  that  must  give  account.  I  never  felt 
more  deeply  impressed  with  the  weight  of  my  ministerial  responsi- 
bilities, or  needed  more  that  grace  be  given,  through  the  intercession 
of  many,  so  to  discharge  them  as  to  be  enal)led  to  render  my  account 
with  joy  and  not  with  grief.  The  minds  of  the  hearers  appeared  to 
be  as  deeply  solemnized  as  my  own.  In  the  afternoon,  I  preached 
one  of  the  last  sermons  prepared  for  Christ  Church  :  Ye  now,  th(^'c- 
fore,  have  sorrow,  &c.,  as  most  in  unison  with  my  own  melancholy 
feelings.  Every  thing,  on  the  whole,  seemed  to  be  as  satisfactory 
as  was  expected." 

During  a  few  of  the  following  days,  he  favored  several  of  his  cor- 
respondents with  letters  of  peculiar  interest ;  from  some  of  which, 
it  is  deemed  a  privilege  to  make  the  following  extracts.  Writing 
to  his  cousin  Elizabeth  on  Sunday,  August  9,  he. says,  "I  write 
you  on  the  most  sacred  of  days,  and  from  one  of  the  most  saci-ed  of 
places,  the  study  of  the  parsonage,  hallowed  as  the  chamber  whence 
the  spirits  of  Hobart  and  Lucas  both  passed  from  earth  to  heaven. 
Looking  down  into  the  green  and  quiet  churchyard,  the  peace  of 
the  scene  steals  into  my  heart,  and  I  feel  blessed  with  a  foretaste  of 
much  enjoyment  and  communion  with  them.  The  walls  around  me 
have  been  witnesses  to  much  suffering  ;  but  it  has  been  such  suffer- 
ing, we  trust,  as  terminates  in  eternal  glory,  and  we  sorrow  not  as 
those  without  hope.  It  was,  methinks,  on  the  eve  of  such  a  day  as 
this,  when  the  setting  sunbeams  penetrated,  with  a  checkered  light, 
through  the  leaves  of  the  locust  trees  that  shade  the  windows,  that 
Bishop  Hobart  desired  to  be  lifted  up  to  see  once  more  the  orb  of 
day,  and  made  some  thrilling  allusion  to  the  Sun  of  Righteousness, 
in  whose  light  he  should  soon  see  light.  It  reminds  me  of  those 
two  stanzas  on  the  Black  Prince,  in  Rob  Roy,  which,  with  a  little 
change,  might  be  applied  to  our  great  spiritual  champion  :  — 
33 


258  MEMOIR   OF  ^VILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1840- 

' "  Raise  my  faint  head,  my  squires,"  he  said, 
"  And  let  the  casement  be  displayed, 

That  I  may  see  once  more 
The  splendor  of  the  setting  sun 
Gleam  on  tliy  mirrored  wave,  Garonne, 
And  Blaye's  impurpled  shore. 

"  Like  me  he  sinks  to  glory's  sleep  ; 
His  fall  the  dews  of  evening  steep, 

As  if  in  sorrow  shed. 
So  soft  shall  fall  the  trickling  tear 
When  England's  maids  and  matrons  hear 
Of  their  Black  Edward  dead."  ' 


The  associations  with  the  departed  give  the  place  a  solemnity 
and  impress! veness,  which,  with  the  character  of  the  day,  is  calcu- 
lated to  inspire  tender  thoughts.  It  is  good  to  be  here ;  and  I 
realize  some  of  the  advantages  to  which  Young  alludes,  where  he 
says,  — 

'  The  chamber  where  the  good  man  meets  his  fate 
Is  privileged  above  the  common  walk.' 

The  stillness  of  this  deserted  house  has  helped  to  suggest  this  train 
of  contemplation.  The  study  is  the  only  room,  yet  reduced  to 
order ;  but  by  the  kind  exertions  of  my  friends,  it  will  soon  be 
rendered  comfortable,  and  ready  for  the  reception  of  my  other  self." 
Writing  to  the  Rev.  Dr.  Strong  one  or  two  days  later,  he  falls 
into  a  similar  train  of  reflection,  and  then  adds,  '« I  have  been  re- 
ceived here  in  a  manner,  my  dear  friend,  to  make  amends  for  any 
past  trial  of  my  feelings.  .  .  .  May  God  give  me  grace  to  be 
humble,  not  idolizing  myself,  nor  being  idolized  by  others.  Nothing 
can  be  more  gratifying  than  the  prompt  and  cordial  terms  of  con- 
gratulation with  which  I  have  been  welcomed  by  the  bishop,  and 
those  of  the  clergy,  whose  interests  have  been  longest  identified 
with  that  of  the  diocese,  as  the  elder  worthies.  .  .  .  The 
only  return  I  can  make,  will  be  to  endeavor  to  deserve  their 
confidence.  I  can  truly  say,  that  the  fines  have  fallen  unto  me  in 
pleasant  places,  and  that  prospects  of  usefulness  are  unfolding 
themselves  on  every  side.  Those  who  have  preceded  me  have 
made  the  path  of  duty  easy  and  pleasant  before  me.  I  shall  make 
it  my  effort  to  preach  sound  doctrine,  and  administer  wholesome 
discipline,  and  to  walk  by  the  same  rules,  going  with  them,  shoul- 
der to  shoulder,  in  sustaining  old-fashioned  Church  principles,  and 
upholding  the  arms  of  the  bishop.  1  trust,  in  short,  to  be  a  fol- 
lower of  those   who   have    gone   before,  as   they   followed  Christ, 


1840.]  ST.    PETER'S,    AUBITRN.  250 

whether  living  or  dead  ;  and  especially  to  beg^in  where  he  ended, 
whose  jj^reat  spirit  was  breathed  out  here,  and  whose  last  sermon 
was,  '  The  fear  of  the  Lord,  that  is  wisdom.''  " 

Soon  after  his  settlement  in  Auburn,  he  also  wrote  an  affection- 
ate letter  to  his  friend  and  brother,  the  Rev.  Addison  Searle,  who, 
as  a  chaplain  in  the  United  States  navy,  was  at  the  time  stationed 
at  the  navy  yard  in  Charlestown.  He  had  been  in  the  habit  of  cor- 
responding with  Mr.  Searle,  in  former  years,  while  he  was  absent 
with  the  American  squadron  in  South  America ;  and  had  been  in- 
strumental, with  other  friends,  in  procuring  his  situation  at  the  navy 
yard.  While  there,  they  were  on  terms  of  great  intimacy  ;  and  Mr. 
Searle,  being  a  warm-hearted  and  devoted  man,  always  held  him- 
self in  readiness  to  assist  the  rector  in  his  official  duties ;  and  no 
man  ever  occupied  the  desk  and  pulpit  with  more  general  accept- 
ance to  the  congregation.  Before  closing  this  memoir,  occasion 
will  be  found  to  record  the  melancholy  deatii  of  this  worthy  servant 
of  God,  at  sea,  on  board  the  squadron  in  the  Mediterranean.  A 
letter,  dated  August  13,  expresses  many  of  the  sentiments  already 
cited.  He  then  adds,  "  It  is  a  grateful  transition  to  live  in  a  land 
where  one  may  preach  Catholic  doctrine  without  exciting  suspicion 
as  to  the  soundness  of  his  Protestantism ;  where  Churchmen,  as  Dr. 
Johnson  says,  are  not  frightened  by  what  is  no  longer  dangerous, 
'eaten  up  with  a  morbid  dread  of  Popery,  when  the  land  is  almost 
swallowed  up  of  Presbytery,  and  crying.  Fire  !  fire  !  in  Noah's 
flood.'  Yet  do  not  suppose  that  I  can  ever  forget  the  dear  friends 
I  have  left  behind.  My  heart  turns  aback,  as  I  muse  of  the  happy 
hours  which  I  have  spent  at  your  kind  and  generous  board.  I  am 
anticipating  with  great  delight  the  comforts  of  housekeeping,  and 
hope,  at  some  early  day,  to  have  an  opportunity  of  reciprocating 
your  proverbial  hosjjitality,  and  being  smoked  at  my  own  table  as 
freely  as  I  ever  was  at  yours.  '  Though,  to  be  sure,'  as  Dr.  John- 
son again  says,  '  it  is  a  shocking  thing,  this  blowing  smoke  out  of 
our  own  mouths  into  other  people's  eyes,  mouths,  and  noses,  and 
having  the  same  thing  done  to  us.'  "  A  loving  rebuke  of  his  good 
brother's  inveterate  habit  of  smoking. 

His  letters  to  his  father  at  this  period  are  generally  of  a  free 
and  familiar  nature,  and  are  chiefly  occupied  with  his  private  affairs, 
and  especially  his  contemplated  nuptials  and  domestic  arrange- 
ments, from  which,  and  from  the  prospects  of  happiness  and  use- 
fulness in  his  new  pastoral  relations,  he  was  very  naturally  antici- 
pating a  large  amount  of  enjoyment.  Still,  in  reference  to  his  pa- 
rochial concerns,  he  could  not  forget,  amid  the  warm  congratula- 
tions of  his  new  friends,  the  salutary  lesson  which  he  had  learned 
in  his  recent  bitter  experience  —  that  the  few  persons  in  his  late 
cure  who  were  the  first  to   betray  symptoms  of  disaffection,  and  to 


260  MEMOIR   OF   WILLIAM    CIIOSWELL.  [1840. 

endeavor  to  spread  that  disaffection,  were  among  tlie   most   enthusi- 
astic of  his  admirers  on  his  settlement  in  Christ  Church. 

From  his  casual  correspondence,  however,  a  few  extracts  may 
be  made.  August  10,  he  writes,  "  I  went  to  Geneva  on  Wednesday- 
Passed  for  the  first  time  the  Cayuga  bridge,  —  as  famous  in  history 
as  the  bridge  of  Lodi, — the  candidate  for  governor,  in  every  po- 
litical campaign  passing  it,  in  a  figure  of  speech,  with  so  many 
thousand  majority,  east  or  west.  It  is  more  than  a  mile  in  length. 
The  waters  have  a  sea-green  hue,  and  the  landscape  would  inspire 
volumes  of  sentiment,  if  it  were  only  European."  He  found  Gene- 
va as  picturesque  and  romantic  as  he  expected  from  the  description 
of  travellers,  and  cites  Percival's  line,  "  On  thy  fair  bosom,  silver 
lake,"  as  a  representation  of  the  beautiful  sheet  of  waters,  on  the 
shores  of  which  the  village  stands.  The  college  was  then  compar- 
atively in  its  infancy,  and  the  number  of  graduates  at  this  com- 
mencement was  small.  "  If,"  he  says,  "  their  heads  were  not  as 
full  of  learning  as  the  Oxford  students,  tlieir  square  caps  were  at 
least  as  large,  and  their  gowns  as  graceful."  He  met  on  this  occa- 
sion the  two  bishops  of  New  York,  with  some  thirty  of  the  clergy, 
and  had,  as  he  remarks,  "  a  pleasant  time  at  the  bishop's,  whose 
seat  is  delightfully  situated  on  the  banks  of  the  lake." 

Monday,  August  17,  he  writes,  "  We  had  three  services  yester- 
day, and  a  pleasant  catechizing  round  the  chancel.  The  lambs 
have  been  well  fed,  and  my  predecessors  have  made  my  path  very 
pleasant  and  plain  before  me.  I  trust  to  follow  them  as  they  fol- 
lowed Christ." 

On  the  following  day  he  addressed  a  letter  to  his  mother,  enclos- 
ing the  subjoined  stanzas,  written  in  anticipation  of  his  approaching 
nuptials  :  "  As  the  time  draws  on,  dear  mother,  when  I  am  to 
change  my  condition,  and  enter  into  the  holy  state  of  marriage,  I 
long  to  comfort  you  with  the  assurance  that  no  movement  has  been 
made  in  so  important  a  matter  but  in  the  fear  of  God,  and  with 
mutual  prayers  to  him,  that  he  would  be  pleased  to  go  along  with 
us,  in  our  entering  in,  and  passing  through,  this  state.  The  com- 
panion whom  he  has  chosca  fi)r  me  promises  to  become  a  great 
blessing  and  comfort  to  me  ;  a  sharer  in  all  my  joys,  a  refresh- 
ment in  all  my  sorrows  ;  a  meet  helper  for  me  in  all  the  ways  of 
godhness.  I  am  sure  that  you  will  dearly  love  each  other,  and 
that  she  will  indeed  be  to  you  as  a  daughter.  ...  I  need  not 
say  how  deeply  it  enters  into  all  my  plans,  to  think  how  much 
pleasure  this  or  that  arrangement  will  afford  you,  when  you  come 
to  visit  us  here  ;  and  I  humbly  trust  that  we  may  find  together,  in 
some  hour  of  domestic  enjoyment,  all  that  earth  aflxjrds,  as  a  fore- 
taste of  the  enduring  joys  of  heaven  !  " 


1840.]  ST.  PETER'S,  ArBURN.  261 

Methinks  those  joyous  bells  will  ring 

In  my  rapt  ear  with  holiest  power, 
When  I  within  that  shrine  shall  bring 

The  offering  of  my  nuptial  hour ; 
And  I  shall  feel  the  debt  I  owe 

For  all  the  past  of  hope  and  love, 
Dear  Church,  that  gives  so  much  below, 

In  pledge  of  more  reserved  above ! 

Though  brief  the  time  in  service  spent. 

How  long  and  dear  its  ties  shall  be  ! 
As  precious  and  "  as  permanent 

As  numbers  of  eternity ;  "  * 
For  though  no  bridal  bond  be  theirs 

Who  in  the  resurrection  rise, 
Yet  from  their  graves  "  all  holy  pairs  " 

Pass  to  their  union  in  the  skies 

O,  may  that  worthiness  be  mine, 

To  walk  hereafter  by  her  side 
O'er  whom  I  joy,  in  rites  divine, 

As  joys  the  bridegroom  o'er  the  bride. 
Together  may  we  join  the  throng  , 

Who  follow  at  their  Savior's  call, 
And  celebrate  in  mystic  song 

The  heavenly  marriage  festival ! 


In  a  subsequent  letter  to  his  father,  he  speaks  thus  of  these 
verses  :  "  I  sent  mother  a  copy  of  the  maschil,  or  song  of  loves, 
which  I  had  written  to  the  chief  musician  upon  Shoshaunim. 
There  is  truth  in  it,  if  there  be  no  poetry  ;  and  all  poetry,  as  we 
see  by  holy  writ,  is  by  no  means  fiction.  My  prayer  therein  is  as 
sincere  as  any  in  the  Golden  Grove  of  .Jeremy  Taylor."  In  tliis 
letter,  he  cites,  with  evident  gratification,  and  with  a  "  blessing  on 
the  little  unsophisticated  heart  of  the  Boston  medal  boy,"  the  fol- 
lowing incident:  "At  the  last  annual  exhibition  of  the  EHot 
School,"  a  school  which  he  had  long  served  as  one  of  the  com- 
mittee, "  one  of  the  medal  boys,  in  his  closing  address,  said  to  the 
connnittee,  '  But  comes  there  no  regret  with  this  hour  1  One  is 
missing  from  your  ranks,  whose  gently-approving  smile  has  often 
mingled  with  yours,  to  gladden  our  hearts,  and  whose  presence  to- 
day we  would  fain  have  welcomed  ;  but  he  has  gone  to  labor  in  a 
distant  part,  and  with  him  go  our  warmest  wishes  for  his  prosperity 
and  happiness.' " 

*  See  Jeremy  Taylor's  seiinon  "  On  tlie  Spousal  Ring." 


2(i-2  MEMOIR    OF  WILIJAM   CKOSAVELL.  [1840. 

The  27th  of  August  was  the  anniversary  of  the  death  of  his  pred- 
ecessor. It  was  a  solemn  day  to  him  ;  and  the  following  hues, 
penned  on  the  occasion,  show  the  current  of  his  musings  :  — 


IN  MEMORY   OF  MY  BELOVED   FRIEND   AND   PREDECESSOR, 
THE  REV.   WILLIAM  LUCAS. 

Three  years  ago,  dear  friend,  to-day, 
Thy  chastened  spirit  passed  away  ; 

And  musing  in  the  room, 
The  last  thy  earthly  footsteps  trod. 
In  walk,  like  Enoch,  close  with  God, 

Light  kindles  up  the  gloom. 

In  all  thy  steps  thus  may  I  tread, 
And  feed  the  flock  as  thou  hast  fed, 

And  make  my  lot  my  choice. 
Till,  reaping  where  thou  well  hast  sown, 
At  harvest  home,  before  the  throne, 

I  may  with  thee  rejoice  !  W.  C. 

St.  Peter's  Parsonage,  Auburn,  Auffust  27,  1840. 


The  next  letter,  in  point  of  date,  from  wliich  a  few"  extracts  are 
taken,  is  addressed  to  his  excellent  friend  and  brother,  the  Rev. 
John  L.  Watson,  assistant  minister  of  Trinity  Church,  Boston. 
September  4,  after  speaking,  as  he  had  done  to  others,  of  the 
pleasantness  of  his  situation,  he  proceeds :  "  The  transition  from 
the  excitements  of  the  city  to  tiie  tranquillity  of  this  rural  retreat 
has  not  been  so  strongly  marked  as  I  anticipated.  My  mind  has 
been  fully  occupied  with  pleasant  engagements ;  and  when  it  might 
otherwise  have  fallen  back  upon  itself,  I  have  betaken  myself  to 
conmiunion  witii  those  whom  I  bave  left  behind.  Every  thing  is 
favorable  to  systematic  division  of  time.  The  mornings  are  unin- 
terrupted, and  all  calls  are  expected  to  be  made  in  the  afternoon 
and  evening.  I  hope  to  make  up  for  lost  hours,  and  do  some 
study.  .  .  .  -Thirty  days  hath  September,'  and  two  impor- 
tant events  call  me  about  the  same  time  :  the  one  to  Buffalo,  the 
other  to  Boston.  The  first  is  an  aiiniKtl  convention,  and  there- 
fore less  important  than  the  latter,  which  I  hope  will  occur  but 
once  in  my  life.  I  siiall  probal)ly  be  in  the  midst  of  you,  for  the 
last  time  in  the  enjoyment  of  my  single  blessedness,  about  the  last 
of  the  month.  1  cannot  be  more  exjjhcit  now,  but  shall  be  prompt 
to   report   myself  and    iny  arrangements   on  my  arrival." 


1840.]  ST.   PETER'S,   AUBURN.  263 

Pending  bis  preparations  for  this  journey,  lie  found  time,  it  would 
seem,  to  indulge  his  poetical  vein  ;  and  the  following  stanzas  are 
alluded  to  in  his  journal  as  having  been  written  at  this  time  : 


LAKE  OWASCO. 


"  One  of  the  seven  fair  lakes  that  lie 
Like  mirrors  'neath  the  summer  sky." 

Ensenobe. 


Fair  lake,  upon  thy  tranquil  face 

The  gilded  clouds,  in  rich  array, 
Reflected  pass,  and  leave  no  trace  — 

Types  of  thy  people  passed  away  ! 
And  he  who  through  thy  pictured  page 

Looks  deepest  down,  with  rapture  sees, 
Like  relics  of  that  long-lost  age. 

The  glimmerings  of  dim  mysteries. 

Well  may  the  statesmen,  for  such  seats. 

Resign  the  empire's  helm  awhile. 
And  deep  within  thy  green  retreats. 

The  languid  summer  hours  beguile. 
Here  Scipio  had,  in  joy,  repaired 

With  Lselius,  at  the  Senate's  close, 
And  by  thy  shaded  strand  had  shared 

The  charms  of  friendship  and  repose. 

Bright  visions  haunt  thy  storied  dells, 

Nor  may  thy  crystal  waters  drown 
The  mingled  pomps  of  poets'  spells, 

And  legends  of  thine  old  renown. 
To  fancy's  ear  they  utter  speech 

In  tones  unsyllabled  before. 
And  every  ripple  on  the  beach 

Seems  faintly  whispering,  "  Ensenore  ! 


But  one  more  passage  is  selected  from  bis  correspondence,  before 
his  departure  for  Boston,  for  the  purpose  of  consummating  bis  mar- 
riage   engagement  with   Miss   Tarbell.     He  thus  closes  a  letter, 

*  Enseuore,  a  poem,  by  Mr.  ISIyers,  a  vouug  gentleman  of  his  parish, 
and  a  superintendent  of  his  Sunday  school. '  The  poem  was  founded  on  an 
Indian  legend ;  and  the  scene  was  laid  on  the  banks  of  the  beautiful  Lake 
Owasco,  the  fairest  of  the  seven  sister  hikes,  which  lie  in  a  cluster  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  Auburn. 


•364  MEMOIR  OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1840. 

September  19,  to  the  Misses  Clark,  daughters  of  the  late  senior 
warden  of  Christ  Church,  who,  with  tlieir  family,  had  always  been 
among  the  kindest  of  his  own  confidential  friends,  as  well  as  those 
of  his  betrothed:  "I  would  fain  speak  on  any  subject,  except  my 
late  change.  On  that  I  cannot  trust  myself  to  say  what  I  have  felt, 
and  what  I  always  must  feel.  It  has  been  more  in  my  thoughts  by 
day,  and  my  dreams  by  night,  than  all  things  else,  save  one.  Re- 
member me  to  those  whom  you  know  with  yourselves  to  have  been 
especially  dear  to  me.  In  that  bright  circle  I  include,  with  a  ten- 
derness  of  regard    which   I  am   now  free  to   express,   our  mutual 

iVieud,  Miss  H .     The  recollections  of  hours  passed  in  sweet 

society  with  you  will  be  cherished  as  the  greenest  spots  in  the  past ; 
and  iiope  ever  mingles  with  them  for  their  renewal  hereafter." 

Having  now  made  the  necessary  arrangements  for  his  journey, 
he  left  Auburn  on  the  21st  of  September,  and  taking  the  convenient 
route,  by  the  way  of  Albany,  New  York,  and  Stonington,  arrived  at 
Boston  on  the  morning  of  the  24th.  He  had  been  borne  along  on 
his  journey  by  the  most  joyous  anticipations,  expecting  a  happy  cir- 
cle of  friends  to  meet  him  on  his  arrival.  But,  alas  !  what  a  change 
awaited  him  !  Grief  had  taken  the  place  of  gladness,  and  all  hearts 
were  overwhelmed  with  sorrow.  But  the  story  must  be  told  in  his 
own  language.  Writing  to  his  father  on  the  following  day,  he  says, 
"  How  presumptuous  are  our  calculations  of  the  future  !  How  little 
we  know  what  a  day  may  bring  forth  !  I  left  New  York  at  five  on 
Wednesday  evening,  and  arrived  here  at  seven  yesterday  morning, 
after  a  most  delightful  trip,  and  in  fine  spirits.  I  was  met  near  the 
depot,  by  a  message  from  Amanda,  that  her  sister  Mary  died  very 
suddenly  on  Tuesday  evening,  by  an  attack  of  bleeding  at  the  lungs, 
to  which  she  had  nearly  fallen  a  victim  last  winter.  At  five,  P.  M.,  she 
was  walking  in  the  street,  by  midnight  she  was  a  corpse  !  This  aftlic- 
tive  providence  has  overwhelmed  the  family  with  grief,  and  of  course 
a;;"L'cts  our  arrangements,  to  what  extent  I  cannot  say,  but  may 
probably  be  able  to  inform  you  to-morrow.  Mary  was  a  lovely  girl, 
of  great  sweetness  and  gentleness  of  temper,  naturally,  and  by  the 
discipline  of  affliction,  of  which  she  had  had  her  share,  made  still 
mure  so.  Her  health  had  long  been  delicate,  and  her  betrothed  sev- 
eral years  since  fell  a  victim  to  consumption.  She  took  the  most 
tender  and  affectionate  interest  in  all  Amanda's  prospects,  and  was 
waiting  with  some  impatience  for  my  return,  to  decide  on  the  expe- 
diency of  spending  the  winter  with  us  at  Auburn.  Her  friends  felt 
doubtful  of  her  ability  to  take  so  long  a  journey  ;  but  she  herself 
was  sanguine  of  her  feufficiency  to  bear  it.  How  little  any  of  us 
thought  she  would  be  so  soon  journeying  to  a  farther  land,  and  the 
house  be  the  scene  of  such  different  solemnities  !  She  looks  like  one 
just  fallen  asleep,  and,  I  trust,  in  Jesus.     The  funeral  takes  place 


1840.J  ST.   PETER'S,   AUBURN.  265 

to-day.  My  impression  is,  that  it  will  postpone  our  marriage  for  a 
few  days,  but  not  longer.  It  will  make  it  a  reason  why  it  should 
be  as  strictly  private  as  I  always  wished.  I  shall  propose  that  it  be 
in  the  house,  and  in  the  presence  of  the  family  only.  It  gives  a 
more  saddening  and  touching  interest  to  the  consecrated  bond  which 
binds  us  together;  and  I  trust  will  complete  any  work  which  an 
unfilled  cup  of  adversity  has  left  undone.  May  it  be  hallowed  and 
sanctified  to  us  all." 

The  marriage  was  solemnized,  on  the  1st  of  October,  at  one 
o'clock,  P.  M.,  in  the  presence  of  the  family,  and  a  very  i'ew  friends, 
the  Right  Rev.  Bishop  Griswold  officiating  on  the  occasion.  The 
parties,  having  taken  leave  of  their  friends,  proceeded  as  far  as 
Springfield  the  same  day.  The  next  day  they  reached  Hartfvd, 
where  they  remained,  receiving  calls  and  congratulations,  until  the 
day  following.  They  then  proceeded  to  New  Haven,  where  the 
bride  was  introduced,  lor  the  first  time,  to  the  family  at  the  parson- 
age, to  the  mutual  gratification  of  all  parties.  After  spending  a  few 
days  in  this  pleasant  interchange  of  courtesies,  they  again  took  up 
their  journey  to  their  new  home,  and  arrived  at  Auburn  on  the  10th. 
In  his  first  letter  after  their  arrival,  he  acknowledges  the  receipt 
of  a  beautiful  copy  of  the  Oxford  Bible,  from  his  brother  Price,  as 
a  wedding  present  —  a  gift  on  which  he  set  a  high  value.  He 
adds,  "  We  found  every  thing  as  it  should  be  here. 
Mrs.  Lucas  has  done  every  thing  to  make  our  situation  at  the  cot- 
tage agreeable.  The  parish  also  have  been  very  kind  and  attentive. 
We  hope  in  a  few  days  to  have  all  matters  in  order  at  the  par- 
sonage." 

The  following  letter,  addressed  to  a  number  of  ladies,  who  had 
associated  for  the  purpose  of  presenting  him  with  a  valuable  parting 
gift,  must  be  given  entire  :  — 

St.  Peter's  Parsonage,  Auburn,  October  27,  1840. 
My  dear  Friends  :  It  is  just  a  month  to-day  since  I  received  at 
your  hands,  as  the  representatives  of  many  dear  members  of  my  late 
flock  in  Boston,  that  costly  token  of  your  affection  and  regard, 
which  was  intended  "to  recall  to  mind,  in  the  sacred  enclosure  of 
my  home,  wherever  that  home  might  be,  the  memory  of  those  who 
had  been  connected  with  me  by  such  hallowed  and  endearing  ties." 
In  the  tumultuous  and  conflicting  feelings  of  that  solemn  moment,  I 
could  not  command  myself  to  express  the  emotions  which  well  nigh 
overpowered  me  ;  and  I  now  sit  down,  at  this  distance  of  time  and 
place,  amidst  new  scenes  of  duty,  and  surrounded  by  the  domestic 
enjoyments  with  which  God  has  blessed  me  beyond  my  deserts,  to 
record  the  acknowledgments  to  which  my  full  heart  has  almost  daily 
given  utterance. 

34 


2GG  MEMOIR   or  WILLIAM   CllOSWELL.  [1840. 

May  God  reward  you,  and  the  dear  friends  whose  names  are  as- 
sociated with  yours  in  this  renewed  evidence  of  your  attachment. 
Highly  as  I  cherished  it  while  I  was  yet  present  ^\^th  you,  I  could 
myself  have  been  but  little  aware  how  tenderly  and  proudly  I  should 
treasure  it  in  my  absence  from  you.  He  only  who  has  been  sud- 
denly wakened  from  his  dream  of  a  permanent  local  habitation  with 
those  whom  he  has  most  loved  on  earth,  wlio  has  been  called  to  bid 
a  reluctant  adieu  to  the  sacred  scenes  from  which  he  fondly  thought 
never  to  have  been  severed  but  with  life  —  he  only  can  tell  its  inesti- 
mable value.  Amid  the  salutary  discipline  of  such  trials,  it  reminds 
him  of  something  permanent  and  abiding.  It  speaks  of  rich  and 
precious  affections,  which  "  cannot  be  gotten  for  gold,  neither  can 
siL^t'R  be  weiglied  for  the  price  thereof."  To  live  in  such  affec- 
tions, next  to  the  approbation  of  his  God,  must  be  the  highest  de- 
light of  the  Christian.  Long  may  this  delight  be  ours  on  earth,  and 
after  death,  endure  as  the  days  of  heaven.  Let  me  urge  you,  as  it 
were  my  last  dying  request,  to  continue  to  nourish  these  affections 
at  the  same  holy  altar  where  we  have  so  long  kneeled  together. 
Cleave  steadfastly  to  the  old  paths,  wherein  you  have  found  rest 
for  your  souls.  Believe  me,  that  there  is  not  a  street,  a  lane,  or  an 
alley,  which  contains  the  dwelling-place  of  a  parishioner,  to  which 
I  do  not  still  feel  an  intimate  relation  ;  and  for  the  dear  Church  of 
my  first  love,  God  is  my  witness  that  I  have  loved  it  beyond  any 
other  abode,  yea,  thiit  I  have  "  preferred  .Terusalem  above  my  chief 
joy."  There  I  trust  to  meet  you  often  in  spirit  before  the  throne 
of  grace  ;  there,  should  God  spare  my  life,  I  look  forward  to  the 
time  when  we  shall  be  gathered  together  face  to  face,  in  my  visits 
to  the  city  of  my  fathers,  and  be  made  more  and  more  meet  for  our 
citizenship  in  heaven.  There,  remember  me  in  your  prayers,  that 
we,  who  have  parted  with  so  many  tears,  may  hereafter,  before  the  sap- 
pliire  throne,  and  on  the  sea  of  glass,  unite  in  the  praises  which  the 
soldiers  of  Him  who  loved  us  and  died  for  us  shall  forever  sing  in 
unison  ! 

Affectionately  and  truly, 

Yours,  in  the  best  of  bonds, 

WILLIAM    CROSWELL. 
Mrs.  Joseph  P.  Couthouy,  Miss  Eunice  T.  Harris, 
and  the  Ladies  associated  with  them. 

In  a  letter  of  the  same  date,  addressed  to  one  of  these  excellent 
friends,  he  says,  "  The  sight  of  so  many  familiar  pieces  of  furniture 
about  us,  and  so  many  common  subjects  of  interest  between  us, 
make  us  already  quite  at  home  in  the  parsonage  ;  and  instead  of  a 
strange  abode,  every  thing,  at  times,  seems  to  go  on  just  as  it  might 
have  been  doing  for  the  last  twenty  years.  .  .  .  Our  house 
is  very  comfortably  furnished,  and   we   have   abundance   of  in-door 


1840.]  ST.   PETER'S,  AUBURN,  267 

mutual  delights.  Our  paths  have  been  so  long,  however,  haunted 
by  a  few,  dear,  daily  faces,  that  Me  cannot  but  deeply  feel  their  loss  ; 
and  we  are  vain  enough  to  thiuk  that  it  would  be  happy  for  them, 
as  well  as  ourselves,  if  they  could  be  with  us,  at  least  for  a  little 
while." 

Here  may  be  added  one  or  two  brief  extracts  from  a  letter,  of 
about  the  same  date,  to  Miss  Callahan,  whom  he  was  always  happy 
to  address  as  his  "  very  dear  friend."  As  the  relative  of  his  de- 
parted brother  Winslow,  and  for  her  personal  worth,  he  held  her 
in  high  estimation.  "  You  cannot  doubt,"  he  says,  "  that  I  must 
have  been  deeply  touched  by  the  affectionate  and  sympathizing  ex- 
pression of  your  feelings,  which  awaited  me  on  my  return  to  Boston, 
and  by  that  dear  little  gift  that  accompanied  them,  the  Lyra  Apos- 
tolica,  ever  to  be  fondly  cherished  for  its  own  sake  and  yours,  and 
more  from  the  value  it  acquired  as  being  one  of  the  favorite  compan- 
ions of  our  beloved  Winslow's  last  hours.  .  .  .  The  little 
book  has  been  a  great  comfort  to  me  in  my  lonely  hours,  and  has 
served  to  bind  us  all,  living  and  dead,  as  it  were,  together,  and  in 
the  saints'  communion.  The  two  beautiful  pieces  which  Benjamin 
selected  with  so  true  an  instinct  are  worth  all  the  rest:  indeed,  there 
is  nothing  else  like  them  ;  and  my  wife  and  I  have  read  them  over 
and  over  again  with  increased  delight,  and  a  deeper  consciousness 
of  their  pure  and  soothing  tendency,  at  every  repetition.  We  seem 
to  hear  the  voice  of  the  dear  departed,  who  being  dead  yet  speak- 
eth,  especially  when  brought  in  connection  with  the  very  precious 
relics  of  tree  and  flower,  which  you  have  sent  us  from  his  much 
frequented  grave.  I  trust,  before  many  months,  to  visit  that  hal- 
lowed spot,  and  nourish  the  hopes  that  bid  us,  on  God's  assurance, 
to  look  forward  and  upward,  to  the  promise  of  eternal  reunion 
hereafter.  Meanwhile,  rest  assured  there  is  nothing  you  could  have 
given  me  which  I  should  prize  so  highly,  and  with  all  the  rest,  the 
cross  is  so  dehghtfully  associated." 

The  following  passage  is  from  a  letter  to  a  particular  friend,  un- 
der date  of  November  30  :  "  The  wind  is  blowing  a  gale  about  the 
house,  and  if  I  was  as  near  to  Christ  Church  as  when  we  were  last 
together,  I  should  have  some  reason  to  apprehend  the  doom  of  those 
upon  whom  the  tower  of  Siloam  fell.  As  it  is,  if  it  should  topple 
down  now,  it  will  not  rest  upon  my  head,  any  more  than  the  respon- 
sibility of  vacating  the  pastoral  chair.  Last  night,  I  perceive,  the 
institution  office  was  once  more  to  be  repeated  ;  and  to-day  a  new- 
shepherd  walks  abroad,  with  the  guiding  crook  and  staff  of  two 
surviving  rectors.  .  .  .  If  1  do  not  congratulate  the  present 
incumbent,  1  pray,  with  all  sincerity,  that  he  may  be  strengthened 
for  an  arduous  course  of  dutv, — 


268  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1840. 

'Having  all  boldness  to  rebuke, 
And  skill  her  griefs  to  cure, 
And  for  his  heavenly  Master's  sake 
All  patience  to  endure.' 

It  is  a  subject,  of  course,  on  which  I  cannot  but  think  and  feel 
much,  but  on  which  it  is  wisest  for  me,  at  least,  to  say  as  little  as 
possible." 

With  one  more  extract,  the  correspondence  of  the  present  year 
must  be  closed.  December  28  he  thus  writes  to  his  fatlier  :  "  Since 
I  wrote  last,  we  have  been  through  all  the  elevating  excitements  of 
another  Christmas,  and  the  wear  and  tear  incident  to  tlie  prepara- 
tion. The  materials  for  decorating  the  sanctuary  are  not  various 
in  this  region,  and  hemlock  is  the  only  available  evergreen  at  this 
season.  The  young  people,  however,  made  the  most  of  it ;  and 
you  would  hardly  have  supposed  that  all  our  verdure  was  of  the 
same  species,  wreaths,  and  boughs.  We  had  a  most  delightful  day, 
and  the  church  was  well  attended.  .  .  .  The  music  was  fine 
and  inspiring  ;  and  I  trust  many  a  soul  magnified  the  Lord,  and 
many  a  spirit  rejoiced  in  God  their  Savior.  It  brought  the  past 
very  greenly  to  remembrance,  and  I  was  in  many  places  besides 
Auburn  in  the  course  of  the  day." 

A  peculiar  interest  is  imparted  to  the  following  incident,  by  the 
fact  that  the  subject  was  an  aged  sea  captain,  who  had  been  brought 
up  under  Quaker  influences,  and  though  now,  in  his  retirement,  a 
constant  attendant  on  the  worship  of  the  Church,  had  always  looked 
upon  the  sacraments  as  mere  matters  of  outward  form,  without  any 
binding  force  or  spiritual  efiicacy  :  "  On  Wednesday  evening  before 
Christmas,  I  had  the  satisfaction  to  administer  baptism  to  old  Captain 
Gardner,  in  the  presence  of  his  family.  It  was  a  solemn  and  im- 
pressive scene,  and  I  have  hardly  ever  known  an  instance  where  it 
was  received  with  a  deeper  appreciation  of  the  covenant  blessings  of 
which  it  is  the  appointed  sign  and  seal.  He  has  since  rapidly  failed. 
The  light  flickers  in  the  candlestick,  and  will  expire  perhaps  before 
morning.  He  seems  to  be  dying  the  death  of  a  righteous  man." 
It  may  be  proper  to  add,  in  this  place,  that  Captain  Gardner 
lingered  till  the  lOth  of  the  ensuing  .January,  when  "  he  departed 
without  a  struggle  or  a  sigh,  retaining  his  consciousness  to  the  time 
of  his  last  sleep,  and  with  a  joyous  hope  in  Ciirist,  which  robbed 
Death  of  all  his  sting.  He  was  buried  from  the  church.  The 
whole  population  of  the  village  gathered,  as  one  large  family, 
to  his  funeral ;  and  though,  at  his  own  request,  springing  from  a 
desire  to  avoid  parade  and  ostentation,  there  was  no  sermon  deliv- 
ered then,  that  duty  was  performed  on  the  following  Sunday." 


1841.]  ST.   PETER'S,   AUBURN.  269 


1841. 


Though  his  removal  to  Auburn  very  much  increased  the  number 
of  his  corresjioiulents,  a  regular  weekly  interchange  of  letters  was 
kept  up  with  his  father.  After  arranging  his  file  for  the  past  year, 
he  says,  January  4,  "  I  have  received  just  fifty-two  letters,  loaded 
with  the  testimony  to  the  passage  of  the  weeks  of  1840.  They 
are  all  before  me  in  orderly  array,  like  the  uniform  sheets  of  some 
well-printed  quarto."  But  he  feels  constrained,  at  the  same  time, 
to  apologize  for  the  brevity  of  his  own  letters,  and  speaks  of 
them  as  comparatively  meagre  and  unsatisfactory.  "  I  would 
fain  promise,"  he  says,  "  to  do  better  in  future  ;  but  I  fear  I  shall 
not  be  able  to  keep  my  promise  if  I  do.  I  cannot  but  feel  very 
sensibly,  at  this  season,  the  lack  of  incident  and  excitement,  which 
used  to  give  such  an  impression  to  their  passage  in  Boston,  and 
of  which  those  only  who  have  experienced  it  can  have  any  con- 
ception. Christmas  and  New  Year  have  passed  merrily  and  hap- 
pily, and  I  trust  profitably,  but  very  unlike,  I  must  needs  say,  the 
same  blessed  days  at  the  east.  I  do  not  wish  to  make  any  invidious 
contrasts  ;  but  as  one  who  has  tried  them  botli,  I  can  say,  that  in 
this  respect  there  is  nothing  gained  by  the  exchange.  I  have  every 
thing  here  to  be  thankful  for,  and  I  would  not  breathe  to  another 
human  being  what  I  have  said  above.  Every  day  seems  to  be 
adding  to  my  strength  and  acceptance  with  the  people,  and  my 
ability,  of  course,  to  do  good.  The  parishioners  are  considerate 
of  wliat  is  due  to  the  comfort  and  necessities  of  their  minister ; 
and  their  way  of  showing  that  they  are  so  is  quite  as  liberal,  at 
least,  as  in  the  quarters  from  whence  I  came.  I  do  not,  therefore, 
commence  the  new  year  in  a  repining  or  querulous  spirit ;  but  you 
must  not  be  surprised  if  1  fill  my  letters  with  nothing  more  interest- 
ing than  our  own  household  aftairs  week  after  week,  of  the  winter  at 
least."  No  such  apology  was  necessary.  His  letters  were  always 
a  delight  to  his  father's  household,  even  though  literally  confined  to 
private  and  domestic  matters.  But  many  things  conspired  at  this 
time  to  throw  an  air  of  despondency  over  his  spirit.  It  was  mid- 
winter, and  the  rigor  of  the  climate,  with  a  constant  recurrence  of 
violent  headache,  with  its  general  influence  upon  his  physical  and 
mental  powers,  were  more  than  sufficient  to  produce  this  eftect. 
But  he  still  describes  his  pastoral  relations  as  perfectly  pleasant  and 
agreeable,  and  the  parsonage  as  "  quite  a  paradise." 

.Tannary  11,  on  hearing  of  the  sudden  death  of  a  beloved  yoimg 

relative  in   New  Haven,  he  thus  writes:   "The  news  of  S 's 

death  was  as  sad  as  unexpected.     I  can  hardly  conceive  of  it,  or 


270  MEMOm   OF  WILLIAM    CROSM^ELL.  [1841. 

think  of  her  except  as  I  saw  her  last,  in  the  flower  of  youth  and 
beauty.  But  I  love  to  remember  her,  and  so  as  I  trust  we  shall  all 
see  her  again,  and  in  still  lovelier  grace.  Of  all  modes  of  bereave- 
ment, what  so  distressing  ?  Her  husband  has  indeed  had  sorrow 
upon  sorrow,  in  this  and  other  ways,  and  I  hope  these  repeated 
visitations  will  not  be  lost  upon  him.  As  the  years  pass  away  with 
such  fearful  swiftness,  we  should  all  remember  how  little  time  may 
be  left  us  for  the  great  work  we  have  to  do,  and  act  accordingly. 
I  bow  my  knees  to  God,  that  this  dispensation  may  be  sanctified  to 
us ;  that  we  may  meet  in  bliss,  when  these  former  things  shall  have 
passed  away."  After  alluding  to  many  other  trials  which  were 
falling  under  his  daily  observation,  he  adds,  "  In  the  midst  of  all 
these  trials,  we  have  every  thing  to  be  thankful  for  in  the  enjoy- 
ment of  health,  and  in  the  kind  appreciation  of  our  friends  and 
parishioners.  Our  friends  abroad  are  not  forgetful  of  us,  and  let- 
ters are  pouring  in  upon  us  from  all  quarters.  They  impose  a 
pleasant  but  somewhat  laborious  necessity  upon  us,  in  the  way  of 
correspondence  ;  but,  like  those  of  housekeeping,  they  are  pleasing 
cares." 

•January  28,  he  writes :  "  Monday,  dear  father,  was  St.  Paul's 
day,  the  twelfth  memorable  anniversary  of  my  ministerial  life  ;  and  I 
turned  to  look  down  the  brief  but  crowded  vista,  and  marked  the 
illuminated  points  gleaming  on  either  hand,  till  it  terminated  in  the 
gate  of  THE  ORDINAL.  '  No  man  taketh  this  honor  to  himself  but 
he  that  is  called  of  God,  as  was  Aaron.'  And  when  we  are  all 
dressed  for  it  as  was  Aaron,  [HerberVs  Aaron,  I  mean,)  may  we 
find  as  easy  a  passage  hence,  whether  it  be  from  Mount  Hor  or 
Mount  Auburn."  The  beauty  of  this  allusion  will  be  the  more  ap- 
parent by  reference  to  Herbert's  "Aaron,"  of  which  the  following  is 
the  first  stanza:  — 

"  Holiness  on  the  head ; 

Light  and  perfections  on  the  breast ; 
Harmonious  bells  below,  raising  the  dead, 
To  lead  them  unto  life  and  rest ; 
Thus  are  true  Aarons  dressed." 

The  following  extract  from  the  same  letter  is  so  characteristic  of 
the  overflowing  kindness  of  his  heart,  that  it  ought  not  to  be  with- 
held. The  subject  of  it  has  long  since  passed  beyond  the  reach  of 
earthly  censure  or  praise ;  and,  as  we  have  no  reason  to  doubt,  is 
enjoying,  in  the  paradise  of  God,  the  sweet  communion  and  fellow- 
ship of  his  younger  brother.     "  The  Rev. ,  who  has 

been  lingering  around  here  for  the  last  fortnight,  with  a  view  of 
establishing  a  school,  now  that  he  draws  a  pension  from  the  fund 
for  disabled  clergymen,  has  bestowed  a  full  share  of  his  tediousness 


1841. J  ST.   PETER'S,   AUBURN.  271 

upon  us,  and  officiated  on  Siindiiy,  P.  M.  He  succeeded  much 
better  than  I  had  reason  to  suppose,  and  in  private  appears  to  such 
a  degree  of  advantage,  hoth  as  a  Christian  and  a  man  of  inteHi- 
gence,  as  to  confirm  me  in  the  oj)ini()n  I  have  often  had  occasion  to 
express,  that  we  are  most  apt  to  deal  uncharitably  with  a  clergy- 
man who  is  unfortunate  enough  to  be  unpopular ;  and  that  those  of 
whom  they  have  most  occasion  to  complain,  in  this  respect,  are  their 
own  brethren  in  the  ministry  of  reconciliation.  He  is  not  without 
his  faults,  doubtless,  —  alas  !  who  is  ?  —  but  with  regard  to  these,  it  is  a 
small  matter  to  be  judged  of  man's  judgment.  Let  me  fall  into  the 
hands  of  the  Lord,  for  his  mercies  are  great  ;  but  let  me  not  fall  into 
the  iiands  of  men,  especially  when  I  am  old  and  gray-headed,  — 

'  And  days  are  dark,  and  friends  are  few,'  — 

and  those  whose  sympathies  we  have  most  relied  on,  as  being  of  the 
house  of  our  friends,  inflict  the  severest  wounds,  and  pierce  us 
through  with  words  like  sharp  arrows.  For  my  own  part,  the  face 
of  a  brother  is  so  rare  a  sight  in  these  parts,  that  I  have  derived 
good  satisfaction  from  many  of  my  interviews  with  old  Mr. ." 

Such  passages  as  the  following  are  frequently  thrown  out  in  his 
familiar  correspondence  with  his  father.  Nothing  can  furnish  so 
clear  an  index  of  the  devout  spirit  that  ever  reigned  in  his  heart. 
This  is  under  date  of  February  8,  the  day  after  communion.  "  It 
was  a  delightful  day,  and  we  enjoyed  the  services  greatly.  If  ever 
the  heart  expands  towards  all,  whether  present  or  distant,  who  are 
dear  to  us  on  earth,  it  is  as  we  commemorate  Him  whose  love  is 
stronger  than  death,  and  binds  kindred  minds  to  each  other  in  the 
holiest  bonds  of  fellowship.  In  that  spirit,  I  trust,  I  have  regarded 
you  at  those  moments,  and  embraced  you  in  the  compass  of  the 
petitions  that  then  ascend  to  heaven."  In  the  same  letter  he  speaks 
of  having  written  to  a  lady  to  whom  he  had  presented  the  original 
lines,  entitled  "The  Ordinal,"  and  from  whom  he  had  received,  at 
the  time,  a  beautiful  sermon  case,  the  first  he  had  ever  had  occasion 
to  use.  As  for  the  ordination,  he  says,  "  The  impressions  produced 
by  those  scenes  can  never  be  efl:aced  by  any  through  which  I  may 
yet  be  called  to  pass.  I  could  not  but  tell  her  how  I  dwelt  on  them, 
and  fed,  as  it  were,  on  the  manna  of  my  past  experiences. 

Nor  was  my  earliest  sermon  case  forgot, 

With  velvet  cover,  and  with  vellum  lined  ; 

The  opening  collects  on  the  left-hand  page, 

And  on  the  right-hand  those  of  closing  prayer, 

With  skill  imprinted  at  the  Wickham  press. 

Though  soiled  and  worn,  yet  not  more  soiled  and  worn 


272  MEMOIR  OF  WILIJAM   CROSWELL.  [1841. 

Than  are  the  clingy  sheets  I  fasten  in, 
Oft  as  I  preach  contemporaneous  notes. 
Not  so  the  truths  themselves,  nor  truest  love, 
Decay  and  perish,  though  the  world  was  old 
And  threadbare  as  the  velvet,  and  the  skies 
Be  shrivelled  parchment  at  the  day  of  doom  ! " 

February  1.5,  he  writes,  "  Yesterday  we  had  but  two  services,  as 
I  had  rather  a  severe  cold,  and  am  desirous  to  be  in  full  strength 
for  the  extra  services,  which  commence  with  the  o])ening  of  the  Lent 
season.  It  is  always  as  delightful  as  it  is  solemn,  and  the  more  so 
now,  as  it  comes  invested  with  all  the  tender  associations  of  the  past. 
Alas  !  how  difficult  it  is  for  me  to  realize,  as  I  look  at  the  picture 
of  Christ  Church,  which  liangs  before  me,  that  a  year  lias  elapsed 
since  those  agitations  commenced  wliich  resulted  in  my  reniovaj 
hither.  I  bless  in  my  iieart  all  those  who  pass  through  those  an- 
cient gates,  as  often  as  they  are  now  open,  and  trust  they  still  find 
it,  as  of  old,  '  all  glorious  within.'  Doubtless  there  is  reason  to 
believe  that  none  of  these  things,  in  the  end,  will  be  against  me ; 
and  it  is  not  they  who  brought  me  hither,  but  God." 

The  next  letters  in  course  to  his  father  and  other  correspondents 
contain,  among  many  interesting  particulars,  a  sort  of  programme 
of  the  proposed  services  for  the  approaching  Lenten  season.  Febru- 
ary 22,  his  wife,  acting  as  his  amanuensis,  writes,  "  Your  son  has  been 
suffering  to-day  from  a  severe  sick  headache,  in  consequence  of  over- 
exertion yesterday,  and  thinks  it  would  be  imprudent  to  make  any 
effort  of  this  kind.  ...  I  think  a  person  must  be  very  strong 
to  be  able  to  officiate  three  times  on  Sunday,  without  injury.  He 
has  never  done  so  since  he  has  been  here  without  being  obliged  to 
give  up  one  day  at  least  the  ensuing  week.  He  had  a  baptism  yes- 
terday, in  addition  to  three  ordinary  services.  Last  evening  he  com- 
menced a  course  of  lectures  on  Confirmation,  as  the  bishop  proposes 
to  visit  the  parish  on  the  Sunday  before  Easter.  ...  St.  Peter's 
is  to  be  opened  for  the  morning  service  and  sermon,  every  Wednes- 
day and  Friday  during  Lent.  The  people  appear  to  be  quite  ])leased 
with  this  arrangement,  and  I  hope  will  derive  much  benefit  from  it." 
To  this  he  adds  a  note  :  "  I  have  been  preparing  myself  for  the 
great  fast,  by  passing  a  day  of  abstinence.  I  am  just  emerging  from 
headache,  and  can  barely  see  to  direct  my  pen.  The  spirit  is  will- 
ing, but  the  flesh  is  weak." 

On  the  ensuing  day,  however.  Shrove  Tuesday,  he  again  resumes 
the  pen,  and  writes  to  his  excellent  friends  and  correspondents.  Misses 
Clark  and  Harris,  in  a  strain  as  creditable  to  his  own  feelings  as 
it  must  have  been  grateful  to  theirs :  "  1  was  in  dreamland  a  few 
nights  ago.     I  was,  as  usual  in  my  visions,  arranging  things  accord- 


1841.]  ST.    TETER'S,   AITBURN.  273 

ing  to  the  order  of  my  course  at  Christ  Church,  about  the  time  of 
the  morning  sacrifice.  The  sun  was  shining  brightly.  A  carriage 
drove  up,  and  Helen's  father  [the  late  Thomas  Clark,  Esq.,  senior 
warden  of  the  church]  stepped  out,  in  his  green  and  serene  old  age, 
and  shook  me  cordially  by  the  hand.  He  said  he  must  go  a  little 
farther,  but  would  shortly  return.  He  was  much  animated,  and 
desired  to  have  the  hymn,  commencing  '  This  is  the  day  the  Lord  hath 
made,'  introduced  into  the  service.  I  awoke,  and,  behold  it  was  a 
dream  !  I  shall  never,  however,  read  that  hymn  without  recalling 
it.  The  present  season,  indeed,  always  brings  him  most  vividly  to 
my  mind.  I  shall  never  forget  the  first  Ash  Wednesday  service  in 
Boston.  It  was  a  warm  and  sunny  day,  and  we  opened  the  win- 
dows and  door  of  the  old  vestry ;  and  the  venerable  warden  went 
down  into  the  little  yard,  and  seemed  delighted  with  the  green  and 
springing  grass,  as  '  lessons  sweet  of  spring  returning.'  I  have 
observed,  on  succeeding  years,  that  Lent  has  generally  opened  in 
the  same  way.  ...  I  shall  be  disappointed  if  Ash  Wednesday 
does  not  correspond  with  all  past  experience.  At  all  events,  it  will 
bring  up  the  past;  and  however  thin  St.  Peter's  may  be  to  other 
eyes,  I  shall  be  in  the  midst  of  a  crowd  of  invisible  worshippers. 
May  it  be  the  beginning  of  a  season,  like  the  joy  of  grief,  sad  yet 
pleasant  to  the  soul  —  a  season  of  yet  more  salutary  discipline  than 
ever."  Before  he  closes,  he  speaks  of  having  received  two  letters 
from  his  dear  friend  Couthouy,  the  last  as  late  as  October,  over- 
flowing with  love  and  tenderness,  "  but  little  dreaming,"  he  says,  "  of 
our  late  severance." 

In  a  letter  to  his  father,  March  3,  he  copies,  with  much  gratifica- 
tion, the  Rev.  Dr.  Hook's  invitation  to  Bishop  Doane  to  visit 
England,  for  the  purpose  of  preaching  at  the  consecration  of  the 
Queen's  new  Chapel,  Ripon  ;  and  after  alluding  to  other  matters 
of  interest,  he  adds,  "  Every  thing  proceeds  smoothly  and  delight- 
fully. We  have  services  at  the  rate  of  some  four  or  five  per  week, 
including  Sunday,  and  my  health  never  was  better.  There  will  be 
a  respectable  body  of  candidates  for  confirmation,  including  men 
and  women.  I  endeavor  to  preach  faithfully,  and  to  commend  my- 
self to  every  man's  conscience  in  the  sight  of  God." 

March  25,  he  writes  that  a  clerical  friend  in  New  York  had 
informed  him  that  the  parish  of  Yonkers,  a  few  miles  from  New 
York,  one  of  the  best  of  country  parishes,  having  a  parsonage  house 
and  glebe,  and  offering  a  liberal  salary,  would  be  vacant  in  the 
ensuing  May,  and  proposing,  if  he  desired  it,  to  interest  himself  in 
his  behalf.  On  this  proposal  he  remarks,  "  I  like  every  thing  in 
this  situation  but  the  name  ;  and  if  the  suggestion  had  been  made  a 
twelvemonth  since,  I  should  have  been  tempted  to  accept,  by  reason 
of  its  vicinity  to  all  our  friends  in  New  York,  and  so  on  eastward, 
^t  present,  I  do  not  think  it  would  be  quite  fair  to  entertain  it. 
35 


274  MEMOIR  OF  WILLIAM   CROS^VELL.  [1841. 

There  could  not  be  a  kinder  and  more  unanimous  people  than  that 
to  which  it  has  been  my  privilege  to  minister ;  nor  can  I  positively 
say  that  the  cUmate  does  not  suit  me,  until  I  have  tried  the  full 
circle  of  the  months." 

April  7,  he  speaks  of  the  confirmation  held  on  the  day  previous 
in  terms  of  great  satisfaction.  "  The  bishop's  visit,"  he  says,  "  was 
short,  but  we  lived  a  great  while  in  a  little  time."  Of  the  bishop's 
manner  of  performing  his  sacred  functions,  his  description  is  highly 
eulogistic,  but  entirely  just,  as  well  as  discriminating.  His  sketch  is 
the  picture  of  a  model  prelate. 

On  Easter  Tuesday  he  writes,  "  We  had  daily  service  and  sermon 
in  Passion  Week,  two  on  Good  Friday,  and  three  on  Easter. 
The  bishop's  visit  was  all  that  we  could  have  desired,  and 
the  happiest  effects  have  followed.  All  my  candidates  for  confirma- 
tion (seventeen)  came  to  the  communion,  and  so  did  several  others, 
and  the  largest  attendance,  it  was  remarked  to  me,  that  had  ever 
been  observed  before." 

April  26,  he  says,  "  I  have  sent,  at  cousin's  request,  a  few  lines, 
written  in  the  chamber  where  Bishop  Hobart  died,  to  the  Northern 
Light  "  —  a  new  literary  work  published  ip  Albany.  These  lines 
are  copied  here  from  a  manuscript  found  among  his  private 
letters :  — 


LINES 

■WBITTEN  IN  THE   CHAMBER  WHERE    BISHOP   HOBART   DEED,   ON  THE    12TH   OP 
SEFTEMBER,    1830. 

Our  house,  whereon  dark  clouds  have  lowered, 

Is  once  more  desolate, 
And  hushed  the  solemn  chamber  where 

The  good  man  met  his  fate. 
Pass  lightly  up  the  echoing  stairs, 

And  look  in  silence  round. 
And  take  tliy  shoes  from  off  thy  feet, 

For  this  is  holy  ground. 

Here  stood,  erewhile,  his  dying  couch, 

Against  this  crimsoned  wall. 
Where,  quivering  tlirough  the  locust  leaves, 

The  setting  sunbeams  fall. 
Here  last  he  saw  yon  glorious  orb, 

Like  his,  descending  low, 
And  through  the  casement  pour,  as  now, 

That  rich,  autumnal  glow. 


]  ST.  PETER'S,   AUBURN.  275 

But  dwell  not  on  the  painful  scene, 

Nor,  rapt  in  vision,  muse. 
Till  in  the  sadness  of  the  past 

The  present  good  we  lose. 
No  sun  could  make  more  golden  set, 

Nor  leave  a  track  more  bright, 
Than  his,  whose  radiant  memory  still 

Fills  all  our  courts  with  light. 

Look  earthward  forth,  and  see,  fast  by 

The  oracle  of  God, 
And  mark  the  well-worn  churchyard  path, 

The  last  his  footsteps  trod. 
Pass  through  the  Gothic  porch,  and  view 

The  chancel's  choicest  trust, 
Where  "  all  but  speaks,"  in  lifelike  grace, 

His  monumental  bust. 

The  pilgrim  at  lona's  shrine 

Forgets  his  journey's  toil, 
As  faith  rekindles  in  his  breast 

On  that  inspiring  soil ; 
And  those  who  trace  in  Heber's  steps 

Camatic  wood  and  wave, 
A  portion  of  his  spirit  seek 

By  their  apostle's  grave. 

And  here  our  prophet's  sons  shall  oft 

Their  father's  ear  recall. 
And  here,  on  each  successor's  head, 

His  reverend  mantle  fall. 
"  Here  may  they  hope  to  fill  the  breach, 

Like  him  the  plague  to  stay. 
While  in  his  thrilling  tones  they  preach. 

And  with  his  fervor  pray." 

Thus,  Auburn,  shall  thy  hallowed  haunts 

Be  sought  from  age  to  age. 
And  hither  sons  of  holy  Church 

Make  pious  pilgrimage. 
And  though  some  bitter  memories 

Must  dash  the  past  with  pain. 
Sweet  village,  thou  shalt  ever  be 

"  The  loveliest  of  the  plain !  " 
Peteb's  Parsonage,  Auburn,  September  12,  1840. 


276  AfEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [184L 

In  a  letter  of  May  5,  in  which  he  announces,  amonoj  other  things, 
his  intention  of  making  the  earhest  arrangements  in  his  power  for  a 
visit  with  his  wife  to  his  eastern  friends,  he  throws  in  the  following : 
"I  rode  twenty  miles  yesterday,  to  marry  one  of  my  parishioners, 
and  returned  with  the  wedding  party,  about  nine  last  evening.  It 
was  the  hardest  day's  work  that  I  have  accomplished  in  many  years. 
We  all  thought  the  roads  the  roughest  possible,  except  the  happy 
bridegroom,  who  seemed  to  have  little  to  do  with  what  was  of  the 
earth.  We  passed  through  scenery  which  would  have  made  a  glori- 
ous landscape  in  the  prime  of  summer ;  but  it  is  the  greater  aggra- 
vation to  look  at  such  scenes  prematurely  as  they  are.  Our  route 
carried  us  by  two  of  the  '  seven  small  lakes  '  that  diversify  this  re- 
gion, and  which  are,  in  various  ways,  very  picturesque.  I  have  now 
been  in  sight  of  all  of  them,  except  Canandaigua  and  Crooked 
Lake,  which  I  hope  also  some  day  to  look  upon." 

The  fondly  anticipated  journey  was  commenced  on  the  17th  of 
May ;  and  passing  through,  and  calling  on  their  friends  in  Utica, 
Albany,  and  New  York,  they  arrived  at  New  Haven  on  the  20th. 
Here  they  remained,  busily  and  pleasantly  employed  in  visiting,  until 
the  26th,  when  they  again  pursued  their  journey,  and  taking  Hart- 
ford and  Springfield  on  their  way,  arrived  at  Boston  on  the  27th. 

He  next  writes  to  his  father,  May  29,  from  an  inn  in  Cambridge, 
while  waiting  for  the  omnibus  to  take  him  to  Boston.  This  letter 
is  chiefly  taken  up  with  a  rapid  sketch  of  their  journey,  after  leav- 
ing New  Haven,  and  with  their  reception  at  Boston,  which  appears 
to  have  been  peculiarly  gratifying.  "  To-morrow,"  he  says,  "  I 
preach  at  the  navy  yard  in  the  morning,  for  brother  Searle,  and 
in  the  afternoon  at  Christ  Church.  On  Trinity  Sunday  I  shall  pass 
the  whole  day  at  Trinity  Church."  Among  other  things,  he  speaks 
thus  feelingly  of  meeting  his  esteemed  correspondent,  Mr.  Couthouy  : 
"  My  old  friend  from  the  exploring  expedition  returned  night  before 
last,  and  nothing  could  have  compensated  for  the  disappointment, 
had  we  missed  seeing  each  other." 

In  his  letter  of  .Tune  7,  he  mentions,  as  a  chief  point  of  gratifi- 
cation, his  meeting  Bishop  Doane,  and  attending  him  on  board  the 
packet,  the  Caledonia,  in  wliich  he  had  taken  his  passage  for  Eng- 
land, to  fulfil  his  engagement  with  Dr.  Hook  ;  and  after  relating 
many  pleasant  incidents,  he  continues  :  "  I  was  at  Trinity  all  day 
on  Sunday,  and  at  the  Mission  Church  at  evening,  and  have  no 
prospect  of  any  real  repose  till  I  reach  Auburn  again,  if  indeed  I 
do  then.  We  have  both  been  excited  and  exhausted,  as  if  on  an 
episcopal  visitation.  I  am  tempted,  on  this  account,  to  delay  our 
return  for  another  week,  and  the  rather  as  we  shall  not  probably 
be  this  way  again  for  a  long  time." 

Next,  dating  from  Auburn,  Saturday  evening,  June   19,  he  says/. 


1841.]  ST.    rETER'S,    AT'EURN.  277 

"  I  am  at  my  round  table  once  more,  with  scenes  of  verdure  all 
about  me,  and  the  fragrance  of  our  churchyard  locusts  filling  our 
premises  with  the  most  grateful  incense.  We  evacuated  Boston 
on  Wednesday  morning,  the  anniversary  of  the  battle  of  Bunker 
Hill,  and  had  a  parting  salute  of  cannon  and  bell  ringing."  He 
then  proceeds  to  give  the  details  of  the  journey,  by  the  way  of 
Pittsfield,  Hudson,  Albany,  Utica,  &c.  "  We  find,"  he  says,  "  all 
well,  with  the  exception  of  one  case  of  bitter  bereavement,  which 
has  thrown  a  worthy  family  into  the  greatest  distress  ;  an  only  child, 
a  fine  boy  of  four  years  old,  the  last  of  several,  having  been 
snatched  away  by  croup.  The  father  is  perfectly  broken  down,  and 
I  feel  that  I  ought  to  have  been  here.  With  my  present  feelings, 
indeed,  I  shall  be  slow  to  leave  my  cure  very  soon  again.  Our 
people  have  been  very  indulgent,  and  find  no  fault ;  but  they  have 
had  service  but  one  Sunday  during  my  absence  ;  and  such  intervals 
of  suspension,  of  course,  cannot  but  do  any  church  harm. 
Ill  the  mean  time,  while  they  have  been  starving,  I  have  been  feed- 
ing strange  flocks,  and  seeing  all  sorts  of  people  excepting  those 
given  especially  to  my  charge,  at  a  rate  which  I  should  have 
thought  very  severe,  had  I  been  in  my  own  place.  Surely,  I  am 
delighted  to  get  back.  Auburn  never  looked  so  like  '  the  loveliest 
village  of  the  plain.'  ...  I  can  conceive  nothing  more  de- 
lightful than  a  trip  this  way,  for  mother,  or  any  of  you,  or  a  pleas- 
anter  resting-place  than  the  parsonage  now  affords,  for  the  end  of 
the  journey.  The  sooner  you  take  up  your  line  of  march,  the 
better  for  all  parties." 

This  suggestion  is  further  followed  up  in  his  next  letter :  "  The 
parsonage  is  all  in  readiness  to  receive  you,  and  all  that  you  may 
bring  in  your  train  ;  and  it  is  looking  delightfully  all  around  us. 
At  the  same  time,  I  cannot  deny,  that  the  summer  atmosphere  is,  in 
general,  peculiarly  damp,  and  not  exactly  what  I  could  wish.  We 
sleep,  as  it  were,  by  enchantment,  at  all  hours  of  the  day,  and 
languor  and  lassitude  beset  us.  I  trust,  however,  you  will  not  be 
discouraged,  though  '  a  pleasing  land  or  drowsihead  it  is,  and  dreams 
that  wave  before  the  half-shut  eye.'  You  will  find  many  friends 
here,  besides  those  that  yoii  have  seen  ;  and  your  coming  is  looked 
for  with  great  expectation." 

A  letter  of  the  6th  of  July  contains  an  amusing  sketch  of  the 
manner  in  which  the  anniversary  of  American  independence  had 
just  been  celebrated  ;  but  only  one  or  two  short  passages  are  cited, 
merely  for  the  purpose  of  showing  bow  innocently  a  clergyman  may 
subject  himself  to  unmerited  censure,  and  how  utterly  impossible  it 
is  for  associated  bigotry  to  change  its  character.  "  On  the  4th," 
he  says,  "  Auburn  was  any  thing  but  a  deserted  village.  All  Cayuga 
county  was  here.  We  had  two  celebrations.  The  regular  '  old  line,' 
appeahng  to  the  whole  community,  at  which  I  officiated.      •      •      • 


278  MEMOm  OF  WILLIAM   CKOSWELL.  [1841. 

The  tee-totallers  collected  all  their  strength  for  an  opposition  display, 
and  of  course  greatly  outnumbered  us.  Indeed,  it  required  no  little 
moral  courage  to  appear  in  what  was  stigmatized  as  the  '  drunkards' ' 
procession  ;  for  so  they  honored  our  celebration ;  and  the  Presby- 
terian minister,  who  was  to  have  been  associated  with  me,  backed 
out,  at  the  eleventh  hour,  having  been  frightened  by  some  of  his 
fanatical  parishioners."  He  does  not  close  this  letter  without  once 
more  urging  forward  the  visit  of  his  parents  :  "  We  are  all  delighted 
at  the  prospect  of  seeing  mother  and  yourself  here  so  soon,  and 
trust  that  nothing  will  prevent  you  from  etfecting  our  heai-ts'  desire. 
The  visit  will  not  only  do  you  good,  and  us  of  the  parsonage,  but  is 
an  event  in  which  the  parish  manifest  a  very  lively  interest." 

All  the  satisfaction  here  anticipated  was  probably  derived  from 
the  arrival  of  the  visitors  at  the  parsonage.  They  were  received 
with  every  demonstration  of  dutiful  affection  by  their  son  and 
daughter,  who,  with  their  friends  and  parishioners,  were  indefatigable 
in  their  exertions  to  render  the  visit  pleasant.  The  following  day 
being  Sunday,  the  public  services  were  rather  unequally  divided 
between  the  rector  and  his  father  —  the  latter  being  persuaded  to 
occupy  the  pulpit  both  morning  and  afternoon,  and  to  bear  his  part 
in  the  other  duties.  The  next  two  days  were  spent  in  interchanging 
civilities  with  friends,  and  in  visiting  some  of  the  prominent  objects 
of  curiosity  and  interest  in  the  village  and  vicinity.  The  state 
prison  with  its  seven  hundred  convicts,  laboring  in  their  several  trades 
and  occupations,  though  a  dismal  spectacle,  was  not  to  be  passed  by. 
But  it  was  to  the  attractive  scenery  in  the  neighborhood  that  the 
visitors'  attention  was  most  pleasantly  called.  Owasco  Lake,  with 
its  enchanting  shores  of  hills  and  groves,  and  Skeneateles  Lake, 
with  its  tasteful  village,  were  among  the  places  which  they  found 
time  to  visit.  But  in  the  midst  of  this  brief  enjoyment,  the  rector 
was  summoned  away  on  Tuesday  night  to  Rochester,  on  a  most 
unwelcome  duty.  He  was  appointed  by  the  ecclesiastical  authority 
on  a  court  of  inquiry,  to  investigate  certain  charges  of  a  scandalous 
nature,  which  had  been  preferred  against  a  presbyter  of  that  place. 
He  was  detained  the  whole  of  the  next  day  in  examining  witnesses, 
and  the  investigation  resulted  iii  presenting  the  offender  for  trial. 
It  may  be  sufficient  to  say  of  the  case,  that  it  cost  him  a  good  deal 
of  anxiety  and  pain  ;  and  although  he  indulged,  at  first,  a  charitable 
hope  that  the  accused  might  prove  his  innocence,  this,  unhappily 
for  the  Church,  and  for  the  accused,  was  not  the  case.  He  has- 
tened back  to  Auburn  on  Thursday  night ;  but  only  in  time  to  take 
leave  of  his  parents  and  other  friends,  who  had  no  alternative  but 
to  take  their  departure  in  the  n)idnight  train. 

In  a  famihar  letter  to  his  friend  Couthouy,  .Tuly  24,  he  urges 
him  to  escape  from  the  heated  walls  and  stifled  thoroughfares  of  the 
city,  and  cool  oft'  in  some  such  rural  retreat  as  Auburn.     He  admits 


1841.1  ST.   PETER'S,   AUBURN.  279 

that,  even  there,  it  is  warm  enouj^h.  But  he  says,  "  I  can  lead  you 
to  cool  and  sunless  groves  hard  by,  which  are  a  refreshment  to  think 
of,  hke  the  shadow  of  a  great  rock  in  a  weary  land.  You  will  find 
that  I  have  some  passion  left  yet  for  natural  history,  and  will 
accompany  you  on  such  exploring  expeditions  as  will  be  for  your 
health  and  recreation.  Several  parties  of  our  friends  have  been 
already  here,  this  summer,  and  find  it  very  tolerable.  My  father 
and  mother  were  among  the  last.  They  spent  a  few  delightful  days 
with  us." 

In  turning  again  to  his  correspondence  with  liis  father,  it  may  be 
well  to  note  one  of  those  melancholy  and  striking  transitions  from 
light  to  shade,  to  which  bitter  experience  had  made  him  no  stranger. 
It  was  at  a  moment  when  they  were  enjoying  a  most  welcome  visit 
from  his  wife's  sister  Elmira,  that  a  gentleman  arrived  from  Boston 
with  the  startling  intelligence  that  Mrs.  Tarbell,  their  mother,  had 
been  taken  suddenly  and  dangerously  sick,  and  that  her  case  was 
such  as  to  require  the  immediate  return  of  her  daughter.  This  was 
but  a  prelude  to  the  painful  result.  Mrs.  Tarbell  died  on  the  7th 
of  August ;  and  he  announces  the  event  in  a  style  which  the 
bereaved  will  well  know  how  to  appreciate.  "  My  wife,"  he  says, 
"has  borne  up  very  wonderfully  under  the  shock.  She  feels,  of 
course,  as  an  affectionate  cliild  cannot  but  feel  under  such  a  bereave- 
ment. She  has  been  called  to  pass  through  many  trials,  within  a 
few  short  months;  but  what  trial  is  there  like  the  loss  of  a  mother, 
and  such  a  mother  especially  as  she  now  mourns  1  Mrs.  Tarbell 
was  a  most  excellent  and  exemplary  lady,  in  all  the  relations  of  life, 
and  her  virtues  endeared  her  to  all  who  knew  her,  and  will  be  cher- 
ished, as  their  choicest  legacy,  by  her  family.  .  .  .  Elmira 
arrived  home  about  twenty-four  hours  before  her  death,  and  was 
gratified  with  an  opportunity  of  seeing  her  in  the  full  possession  of 
all  her  powers,  and  in  the  calm  and  Christian  contemplation  of  her 
approaching  dissolution." 

But  this  cloud  of  sorrow  had  scarcely  crossed  his  path  before  he 
was  permitted  again  to  enjoy  a  gleam  of  light  from  another  branch 
of  his  fimiily  connections.  He  announces,  in  a  letter  of  the  IGtli  of 
August,  the  welcome  intelHgence  of  the  birth  of  his  father's  first 
grandchild,  a  son  of  his  brother  Sherman  Croswell,  of  Albany. 
On  this  occasion,  he  falls  into  a  train  of  pleasant  and  appropriate 
reflections,  citing  the  language  of  the  Psalms  and  the  classics,  to 
show  the  blessedness  of  those  whose  "  children  are  like  the  olive 
branches  round  about  their  table." 

"  Sons  in  our  prime,  no  shaft  so  bright ; 
Blest  he  who  fills  his  quiver  so ; 
They  unabashed  may  claim  their  right. 
And  in  the  gate  defy  their  foe." 


280  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM    CROSWELL.  [1841.. 

After  attending  the  convention  of  the  western  diocese  of  New 
York,  at  Utica,  he  thus  alludes,  in  a  letter  of  September  3,  to  a 
malady,  from  which  he  was  seldom  or  never  exempt  for  any  con- 
siderable length  of  time.  As  an  apology  for  delaying  his  letter,  he 
says,  "  Two  or  tiiree  of  the  days  generally  devoted  to  correspond- 
ence have  been  given  up,  I  find,  to  the  headache,  which  still  haunts 
me,  and  follows  as  the  night  the  day,  or  as  effect  grows  out  of 
cause,  after  any  overdoing  or  excitement."  And  he  afterwards 
adds,  "  I  am  sometimes  disposed  to  ascribe  my  headaches  to  being 
overworked,  and  in  study  I  trust  I  have  something  to  show  for 
myself"  Such  admissions  are  not  often  found  in  his  letters,  as  they 
were  sure  to  call  forth  from  his  friends  the  most  earnest  expostula- 
tions to  desist  from  such  labors  as  might  be  deemed  excessive.  But 
from  his  private  journal  it  appears  that  these  attacks  were  not  only 
frequent,  but  in  many  cases  extremely  distressing. 

Speaking  incidentally  at  this  time  of  the  great  amount  of  his 
correspondence,  he  says,  "  This  is  the  seventh  long  letter  I  have 
sent  off"  within  a  few  days,  and  I  sometimes  think,  if  I  had  made  a 
circular  of  them,  I  might  have  made  one  good  letter,  instead  of 
spoiling  half  a  dozen."  It  is  to  be  presumed,  however,  that  his 
correspondents  formed  a  very  different  estimate  of  the  value  of  their 
respective  letters,  and  that  neither  of  the  seven  would  have  been 
willing  to  merge  an  exclusive  claim  in  the  general  property  of  a 
circular.  Among  these  letters,  one  is  found  addressed  to  his  friend 
CouTHOUY,  who,  it  seems,  had  been  waiting  rather  impatiently  for 
a  response  to  one  of  his  own  communications.  He  acknowledges 
the  receipt  of  this  letter  in  highly  flattering  terms,  and  begins  by 
remarking,  "From  what  I  learn  from  Cambridge,  I  should  infer  that 
you  had  been  ravenous  for  a  reply.  In  such  a  case,  I  must  deal 
with  you  as  a  skilful  leech  does  with  a  morbid  appetite,  which  is 
sometimes,  you  know,  a  shocking  bad  symptom  —  put  you  on  severe 
diet  and  short  allowance,  administering  very  little  at  a  time,  and  that 
not  very  often,  keeping  all  high-seasoned  and  exciting  dishes  out  of 
your  reach,  and  feeding  you  with  a  sort  of  water-gruel  messes. 
Ecce  signum!"  He  proceeds  in  a  similar  vein;  but  the  entire  let- 
ter is  so  full  of  local,  private,  and  personal  allusions  and  anecdotes, 
that  it  cannot  be  spread  on  these  pages. 

Having  concluded  to  attend  the  opening  of  the  session  of  the 
General  Convention  at  New  York,  on  the  6th  proximo,  he  writes, 
September  23,  "  As  I  attend  the  convention  simply  as  a  member  of 
that  large  and  respectable  branch  known  as  the  third  house,  my  duty 
to  my  constituents  will  not  require  me  to  be  present  during  the 
whole  session.  I  only  propose  to  leave  here  on  Monday,  stay  just 
long  enough  to  set  you  well  a-going,  and  return  to  my  place  on  the 
Saturday  following."  All  this  was  accomplished,  so  far  as  the  com- 
mencement was  concerned.      He  was  present  on  the  assembling  of 


1841.]  ST.   PETER'S,   AUBURN.  381 

the  convention,  and  derived  great  enjoyment  from  the  service.  He 
met  great  numbers  of  his  friends,  and  had  an  opportunity  to  spend 
much  time  with  his  father,  who  was  among  the  delegates  to  the  con- 
vention. He  left  New  York  on  Friday,  taking  abundant  time,  as 
he  supposed,  to  reach  home  on  Saturday.  But  in  consequence  of 
an  unfortunate  detention  of  the  boat  on  the  river,  he  did  not  arrive 
in  Auburn  until  Sunday,  and  at  too  late  an  hour  for  the  morning 
services.  In  the  afternoon,  however,  he  opened  his  church,  and 
though  quite  indisposed  from  a  severe  cold,  resumed  his  duties.  "  I 
found  all  well  here,"  he  says,  in  a  letter  to  his  father,  "  and  my  wife 
had  set  the  house  in  fine  order.  I  realized  more  strongly  than  ever, 
when  I  reached  it,  that  there  is  no  place  like  home."  Writing 
again,  he  says,  "  It  would  of  course  have  given  me  great  delight  to 
have  extended  my  visit  to  New  Haven ;  but,  as  it  was,  I  crowded 
into  the  week  rather  more  than  it  could  hold,  and  more  than  was 
good  for  me  bodily.  The  wear  and  tear  of  travel,  by  night  and 
day,  affect  me  more  than  some  journeyers,  and  do  not  seem  to 
diminish  by  any  experience  I  have  had  of  it." 

The  following  extract  from  a  letter  of  November  16  is  worth 
recording,  as  foreshadowing  a  policy  which  the  Church  has  since 
found  it  expedient  and  necessary  to  adopt,  in  her  efforts  to  extend  the 
gospel  in  the  far  west  :  "  I  am  sorry  to  hear  such  melancholy  tid- 
ings of  young  Pkindle.*  I  have  the  impression  that  he  had  not 
stamiua  enough  to  hold  out  long  under  the  weight  of  the  ministry 
any  where.  But  our  frontier  service  is  truly  full  of  peril  to  an  east- 
ern constitution  especially  ;  and  in  the  climate  of  Missouri,  like 
that  of  India,  it  would  seem  that  labor  is  death.  I  see  by  the 
Churchman  that  many  of  Bishop  Kemper's  new  recruits  have  with- 
drawn rather  abruptly  from  positions  so  full  of  danger,  and  which  in 
no  respect,  I  presume,  can  be  regarded  as  inviting  fields  of  duty. 
Unless  the  sons  of  the  soil  can  be  educated  on  the  spot  for  the  work, 
I  fear  there  will  be  but  a  small  chance  of  a  satisfactory  supply  for 
the  demands  which  the  gi"eat  west  so  urgently  presents  for  meeting 
her  spiritual  necessities." 

At  about  this  time  he  speaks  of  having  received  an  intimation 
that  his  services  might  be  wanted  in  another  part  of  the  diocese,  and 
says,  "  I  am  perfectly  satisfied  that  the  western  diocese  has  nothing 
more  inviting  in  its  borders  than  this  parish.  I  shall  endeavor  to 
seek  no  other  country,  except  a  heavenly  ;  though  not  without  the 
secret  longing  to  return  one  day  to  the  familiar  haunts  of  New  Eng- 
land." Tliis  is  followed  by  another  characteristic  passage  :  "  I  have 
been  invited  to  deliver  a  poem  at  Geneva,  at  the  next  commence- 


*  The  Rev.  Charles  Prindle,  who  was  sinking  tinder  a  fatal  disease,  con- 
tracted in  his  western  mission. 

36 


282  MEMOIR   OF   WILLIAM    CROSWELL.  [1841. 

ment ;  which  I  have  thought  proper  on  consideration  to  decline,  for 
good  and  sufficient  reasons,  as  1  regard  them.  I  appreciate  notwith- 
standing, very  highly,  tlie  honor  conferred  upon  me  by  this  flattering 
invitation,  and  have  expressed  myself  accordingly." 

In  a  subsequent  letter,  after  hearing  of  the  death  of  Mr.  Prindle, 
he  writes,  "  Though  I  knew  but  little  of  Mr.  Prindle,  it  was  enough 
to  make  me  deplore  his  loss  to  the  Church ;  and  I  can  think  what  a 
pang  it  must  cost  the  now  desolate  and  aged  heart  whose  chief  hope 
he  was.  As  one  who  was  faithful  over  few  things,  he  has  doubtless 
entered  into  the  joy  of  the  Lord  ;  and  those  who  know  the  trials  of 
a  long  ministry,  might  almost  envy  his  early  removal.  How  true 
and  touching  is  that  thought  of  Southey !  — 

'  Happy  he  • 

Who  to  his  rest  is  borne 
In  sure  and  certain  hope, 
Before  the  hand  of  age 
Has  chilled  his  faculties, 
Or  sorrow  reached  him  in  his  heart  of  hearts.' 

We  have  many  like  daily  instances  of  mortality  among  the  clergy 
to  teach  us  how  frail  we  are  —  the  earliest  summoned,  and  the  latest 
spared.  The  aged  Bishop  Moore's  turn  has  come  at  last,  unex- 
pectedly, I  presume,  to  all  but  himself.  At  General  Convention,  he  was 
the  very  picture  of  a  green  old  age.  He  was  like  a  shock  of  corn 
in  his  season,  and  was  gathered  to  his  fatliers  in  the  ripeness  of  his 
graces,  and  with  a  heart  younger  than  his  years.  May  our  sun  make 
as  serene  a  set,  and  our  lot  be  with  his  and  that  of  all  those  who 
depart  hence  in  the  Lord." 

In  a  letter  to  his  friend  Couthouy,  of  December  14,  he  speaks 
of  some  of  his  occupations  after  this  manner  :  "  Pleasant  as  my  par- 
ish is,  I  am  delighted  to  tell  you  that  it  is  no  sinecure,  though  that 
is  among  the  reasons  why  I  do  not  write  oftener.  Being  the  only 
minister  of  the  apostolic  succession  among  a  crowd  of  pi'eachers  of  the 
Independent  and  Presbyterian  invention,  and  what  Father  Haskell, 
in  his  visit  to  me  last  summer,  called  the  Baptist  disorder,  and  not 
being  of  particularly  bad  report  among  the  people,  my  services  are 
in  considerable  request  for  extra  occasions.  On  Thursday  last,  our 
Thanksgiving  day,  I  preaclied,  in  part,  on  undue  festivity,  and  was 
obliged  to  reduce  my  precepts  to  practice,  by  leaving  immediately 
after  service,  without  food  or  drink,  in  a  drenching  rain,  to  attend  a 
funeral  and  preach  a  sermon  at  a  little  settlement  ten  miles  distant, 
on  the  canal,  called  Port  Byron,  like  lucus  a  non  lucmdo,  perhaps 
because  there  is  wo\\nng  portly  or  poetical  ohonX.  it.  But  you  know 
we  hsive  Jirst-i-ate  names  in  this  part  of  the  world,  if  we  have  nothing 


1841.1  ST.  PETER'S,  AUBURN.  283 

else.  The  highways,  you  have  some  reason  to  remember,  are  not 
royal  roads  ;  the  soil  is  quite  too  fertile  for  that ;  but  you  can  hardly 
begin  to  conceive  the  state  of  the  by-ways,  when  that  same  dust 
which  was  so  deep  last  summer  has  been  soaked  to  the  centre  by 
this  abundant  moisture,  and  our  freedom  thus  far  from  any  thing  like 
severe  frost.  It  was  quite  a  different  aftair  from  riding  out  to  Lee 
Vale  to  take  a  Thanksgiving  dinner.  I  did  reahze,  however,  that  it 
is  better  to  go  to  the  house  of  mourning  than  that  of  feasting ;  and 
I  returned  in  season  to  share  the  hospitalities  of  the  excellent  pa- 
rishioner, where  my  wife  was  spending  tlie  day."  He  remarks, 
before  he  closes,  "I  have  dechned  being  poet  at  Geneva  College 
next  year,  on  the  ground  of  being  preacher  of  the  muses."  He 
acknowledges,  however,  that  he  has  been  induced,  by  his  cousin  of 
the  Albany  Argus,  to  prepare  another  New  Year's  ode  for  that 
paper. 

The  pleasure  is  here  indulged  of  transcribing  a  long  extract 
from  a  familiar  letter  of  December  15,  addressed  to  one  of  the 
Misses  Clark,  with  whose  family  he   cherished  the  most  intimate 

and  affectionate  relations  to  the  day  of  his  death  :  "  H s'  letter, 

dear  L ,  came  yesterday,  like  a  gleam  of  sunshine  in  the  midst 

of  those  dark  and  gloomy  days,  which,  though  remarkably  mild  for 
the  season,  seem  to  be  shut  in  from  morning  to  night  with  a  dull 
drapery  of  perpetual  cloud,  making  their  proverbial  shortness  still 
shorter.  Though  we  rise  early,  and  late  take  rest,  little  is  accom- 
plished in  the  interval  except  the  most  pressing  duties.  The  antici- 
pation of  seeing  H herself  here  in  person  is,  you  may  be  sure, 

a  very  pleasant  one  to  entertain  ;  and  the  reality  will  help  to  abridge 
the  winter  more  than  I  can  well  express.  I  leave  that  to  my  wife 
to  tell ;  and  in  the  mean  time,  you  must  do  what  you  can  in  the  way 
of  letters  to  prevent  our  isolation  here.  I  rejoice  to  inform  you 
that  the  ark  of  God's  magnificent  and  awful  cause  intrusted  to  me 
continues  to  ride  on  prosperously,  and  I  trust  because  of  its  truth 
and  righteousness.  The  return  of  the  solemn  Advent  season  seems 
to  have  been  productive  of  deep  spiritual  impression  on  the  hearts 
of  the  people ;  and  my  own  has  not,  I  hope,  been  insensible  to  the 
reaction.  Much  as  I  have  yet  to  learn  in  the  discharge  of  my 
momentous  ministerial  responsibihties,  I  cannot  but  be  happily, 
though  humbly,  conscious  that  God  has  taught  me,  in  these  last 
years,  how  to  apply  his  truth  less  as  one  who  runs  uncertainly,  and  to 
fight  less  as  one  that  beateth  the  air.  .  .  .  The  associations  of 
the  time  carry  me  back  to  all  the  annual  round  of  other  days,  and 
the  loved  and  lost,  the  living  and  the  dead,  with  whom  we  have  made, 
and — precious  hope!  —  are  still,  one  communion." 

His  last  letter  for  the  year  to  his  father  is  hasty,  sketchy,  and 
desultory,  with  many  private  and  confidential  allusions  ;  from  which, 
however,   one  or  two   passages  are    detached.     He   mentions  the 


284  MEMOIR  OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1842- 

departure  of  a  delegation  to  attend  the  celebration  of  the  completion 
and  opening  of  the  Great  Western  Railroad  from  Boston,  via  Albany, 
to  Auburn,  and  adds,  "I  was  invited  to  accompany  the  party,  and 
would  gladly  have  done  so  at  any  other  season.  At  present,  I  can 
hardly  be  spared  for  a  day.  Meanwhile  I  share  in  the  general 
enthusiasm  ;  and  if  we  have  no  particular  cause  to  exclaim,  with 
William  Howitt,  '  Thank  God  for  mountains  ! '  we  have  reason  to 
thank  him  for  railroads.  We  oent  several  sprigs  of  our  Christmas 
evergreens  to  our  Christ  Church  friends,  to  show  them  that  we  were 
only  twenty-four  hours  apart,  in  case  of  emergency,  and  how  easy 
it  was  for  Burnam  Wood  to  come  to  Dunsinane."  He  had  passed 
the  Christmas  festivities  pleasantly  and  satisfactorily,  and  had  dis- 
charged a  great  amount  of  duty  ;  but  amid  it  all  he  found  time  to 
prepare  and  send  off  to  the  Argus  what  he  calls  "  a  versification 
of  proverbial  philosophy,  under  the  guise  of  Poor  Richard,  Jr., 
earnestly  hoping,  however,  that  it  might  be  superseded  by  rhymes  of 
a  more  sportive  strain."  In  this  hope,  it  will  be  seen,  he  was  dis- 
appointed. The  verses  appeared  in  the  Argus  on  the  first  of  Jan- 
uary ;  and  from  thence  are  transferred  to  the  opening  record  of  the 
year. 


1842, 


FROM  THE  DESK  OF  POOR  RICHARD,  JR. 


A  HAPPY  New  Year,  patrons,  friends ! 

Incline  a  gracious  ear 
To  what  Poor  Richard,  junior,  sends 

To  prove  his  wish  sincere ; 
And  do  not  grudge,  he  says,  to  take 

Out  of  his  earthen  jar 
True  treasures,  for  the  giver's  sake, 

If  they  true  treasures  are. 

As  pure,  through  IJozra's  shallowest  stream, 

Oft  glitter  grains  of  gold, 
And  fair  the  blessed  flowerets  gleam 

From  sods  all  dull  and  cold  ; 
So  those  who  prized  old  Richard's  prose, 

Will  not  to-day  disdain 
Whatever  wholesome  precept  glows 

Beneath  tlie  carrier's  strain. 


1842.]  ST.   PETER'S,   AUBUKN. 

Ye  who  would  cliange  these  evil  days, 

And  have  them  truly  blest, 
Must  make,  in  ancient  Richard's  plurase 

Of  every  thing  the  best : 
And  each,  though  knowing  but  in  part 

The  mystery  of  sui, 
Must  cure,  in  his  own  evil  heart, 

His  evil's  origin. 

The  secret  is,  Poor  Richard  says, 

But  understood  by  few, 
That  they  have  happiest  New  Year's  days 

Who  have  the  most  to  do  : 
The  poor  rejoiceth  in  his  tasks, 

With  present  good  content. 
And  sweet  his  daily  bread  who  asks 

But  to  be  innocent. 

He  little  knows  the  bitter  cost 

At  which  the  rich  increase ; 
The  hours  of  sweet  composure  lost, 

And  compensating  peace ; 
He  little  knows  their  waking  toils, 

Their  visions  of  distress, 
Who  dream,  amid  their  hoarded  spoils, 

Of  fortune's  fickleness. 

Cups  strive  to  hold.  Poor  Richard  writes, 

The  bucket's  draught  in  vain ; 
Nor  can  man's  straitened  appetites 

More  than  their  fill  contain. 
Enjoyment  has  its  bouuds,  though  deep 

Be  wealth's  unfailing  spring, 
And  all  our  chiefest  comforts  keep 

In  moderation's  ring. 

Labor  to  pleasure  giveth  zest 

Which  gold  can  never  win ; 
Cheap  recreations  are  the  best. 

And  none  so  dear  as  sin. 
True  joy  is  where  yon  visitant 

Some  broken  spirit  cheers, 
And  where  the  pale,  lank  cheek  of  want 

Is  wet  with  grateful  tears. 

A  bold,  bad  man,  or  fool,  is  he 
Who  dare  the  cup  refuse 


MEMOLR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1842. 

Which  mercy  mixeth  lovingly, 

And  would  his  neighbor's  choose. 
We  know  the  worst  of  what  we  are, 

But  not  another's  curse  ; 
And  certain  bad  is  better  far 

Than  dread  of  something  worse. 

Poor  Richard  knows  full  well  distress 

Is  real,  and  no  dream  ; 
And  yet  life's  bitterest  ills  have  less 

Of  bitter  than  they  seem. 
Meet  like  a  man  thy  coward  pains, 

And  some,  be  sure,  will  flee  ; 
Nor  doubt  the  worst  of  what  remains 

Will  blessings  prove  to  thee. 

And  thou,  whose  days  abundance  bring, 

Give  needy  men  their  due ; 
Who  saves  the  poor  from  suffering. 

May  save  from  sinning  too. 
And  be  thou  slow  to  wield  the  rod 

When  others  do  thee  wrong, 
And  bear  a  while  with  them,  when  God 

Hath  borne  with  thee  so  long. 

On  you  alone,  of  lily  kind, 

Effeminate  and  pale, 
Who  idle  in  the  summer  wind, 

Poor  Richard  fain  would  rail. 
Because  ye  have  not  toiled  and  spun 

As  sister  lilies  might. 
Nor  are  ye  wise  as  Solomon, 

Though  gaudier  to  the  sight. 

Your  only  place,  ye  well-arrayed, — 

Poor  Richard  thinks,  —  for  whom 
The  world  is  under  tribute  laid 

For  finery  and  perfume, 
Soon  as  your  saponary  hair 

Is  long  enough  to  braid. 
Should  be  with  some  man-milliner, 

To  learn  a  genteel  trade. 

These  are  a  few  of  Richard's  rules ; 

Nor  does  he  much  expect 
To  found,  amid  the  rival  schools, 

A  very  numerous  sect ; 


1842.]  ST.  PETER'S,   AUBURN.  287 

Nor  will  he  longer  moralize, 

Lest  he  should  prove  severe ; 
Enough  is  said  to  help  the  wise 

To  make  a  happy  year ! 

January  1,  1842. 


While  thus  throwing  off,  for  the  amusement  and  instruction  of 
the  readers  of  the  Argus,  these  quaint  versifications  of  Poor  Rich- 
ard's proverbial  philosophy,  he  was  apparently  indulging  in  a 
sweeter  and  sublimer  strain,  for  the  solace  of  himself  or  some 
distant  friend.  The  following  stanzas  are  found  in  their  first  rough 
draught  among  some  loose  manuscripts,  without  any  date,  and 
have  probably  never  appeared  in  print :  — 

My  muse  is  no  migrating  bird, 

Nor  one  that  sleeps  the  cold  away ; 
But  in  her  parlor  cage  is  heard 

Still  piping  her  perennial  lay. 
While  o'er  the  sea  her  tribes  retire, 

She,  like  some  patient  editor. 
Keeps,  from  the  prison  by  the  fire, 

The  household  in  a  cheerful  stir. 

What  dearer  lesson  to  impart 

To  murmuring  minds  than  her  rich  song  ?  — 
"  Abate  no  jot  of  hope  or  heart. 

Though  days  grow  short,  and  cold  grows  strong. 
Though  pent  up  in  a  straitened  room, 

Break  out,  like  me,  in  merriest  strain, 
And  rise  above  the  circling  gloom 

Till  better  days  come  round  again." 

How  much  we  need  such  song  of  cheer. 

He  will  not  ask,  who  looks,  I  ween, 
Where  through  the  portals  of  the  year 

The  wintry  world  without  is  seen ; 
He  will  not  ask  who  sees  the  sky 

Lowering  with  grim  and  murky  face, 
Or  hears  the  boding  frost-wind  sigh 

Around  his  ice-bound  dwelling-place. 

He  will  not  ask  who  sees  the  crowd, 

In  twilight  dim,  so  hurrying  past, 
All  muffled  to  the  eyes,  and  bowed 

Before  the  keen  and  biting  blast ; 


MEMOIR   OF  AVILLIAM   CIIOSWELL.  [1842. 

He  will  not  ask  who  promptly  goes, 

On  such  a  night,  at  duty's  call. 
Mid  hail,  and  sleet,  and  drifting  snows. 

And  storm-drops  freezing  as  they  fall. 

He  will  not  ask  who  has  to  do, 

These  dismal  times,  with  suffering  men, 
And  follows  famine's  ghastly  crew 

To  misery's  cold  and  squalid  den. 
Where  fires  are  out,  or  burning  low, 

And  through  broad  chinks  and  broken  panes 
The  scythe-like  air  sweeps  to  and  fro. 

Curdling  the  life-blood  in  the  veins. 


He  will  not  ask  who  climbs  the  stair, 

Where,  reft  of  fuel,  fire,  and  food, 
A  mother  sits,  like  wan  despair. 

Benumbed  amid  her  huddling  brood  ; 
Where  hopeless  woe  and  hunger  steel 

To  every  form  of  ill  the  mind. 
Half  crazed  by  sense  of  what  they  feel, 

And  fear  of  what  is  worse  behind. 

O,  wouldst  thou  keep  thy  heart  in  tune 

'Mid  fireside  joys,  thy  spirit  lift, 
Like  song  of  bird  in  gay  saloon, 

Or  blossoms  in  the  snowy  drift ; 
With  deeds  of  love  thy  joys  expand, 

And  deal  the  blessings  of  thy  lot 
On  every  side,  with  generous  hand, 

To  aching  throngs  that  have  them  not. 

Go,  wann  the  cold ;  go,  clothe  the  bare  ; 

Go,  feed  the  starved  ones  at  thy  door; 
And  let  the  empty-handed  share 

From  out  thy  basket  and  thy  store ; 
Go,  wipe  from  misery's  eye  the  tear, 

Take  by  the  hand  affliction's  son. 
And  happy  shall  be  all  the  year 

That  is  thus  happily  begun. 

Go,  give  the  sick  and  weary  rest ; 

Gladden  the  cells  where  prisoners  lie  ; 
Pour  balm  and  oil  in  wounded  breast, 

And  soothe  the  soul  about  to  die. 


ST.   PETER'S,   AUBURN. 

Go,  where  thy  name  a  blessing  draws 
From  rescued  lips,  on  such  employ ; 

Partake  the  bliss  of  those  who  cause 
The  widow's  heart  to  sing  for  joy. 

Do  thus,  and  thou  shalt  go  to  rest 

With  music  round  thy  midnight  bed 
And,  blessing,  shall  be  trebly  blessed 

For  each  such  soul  thus  comforted. 
Thy  sun  sliall  make  a  golden  set 

This  New  Year's  day,  and  be  by  far 
The  happiest  day  that  ever  yet 

Was  lettered  in  thy  calendar ! 


The  parsonage,  at  this  time,  appears  to  have  been  the  very  centre 
of  domestic  comfort  and  social  enjoyment.  But  still,  to  complete 
their  happiness,  the  inmates  longed  for  the  companionship  of  some 
of  their  Boston  friends  ;  and  the  following  extract,  from  a  familiar 
letter  of  March  17,  will  show  how  pleasantly  that  want  was  supplied  ; 
"  Since  I  wrote  last,  we  have  been  most  agreeably  surprised  by  tlit 
unexpected  arrival  of  Captain  Couthouy,  having  under  guardiansliip 

our  dear  friend  Helen  C ■—,  whom  we  have  been  importuning  al! 

winter  to  visit  us,  but  had  received  no  encouragement  to  expect  our 
proposals  would  be  accepted.  The  captain  has  an  appointment  to 
superintend  the  arrangement  of  the  natural  history  specimens  received 
at  the  National  Institute  at  Wasiiington,  which  will  give  him  employ- 
ment, for  which  he  is  admirably  fitted,  for  the  coming  year.  He 
spent  two  or  three  days  here,  which  were  too  pleasant  for  any  thing 
but  holidays,  and  almost  too  great  an  indulgence   for  the  season. 

The   prospect  of   having   Miss  C domesticated  with   us,  for 

some  months  at  least,  has  given  quite  a  new  aspect  to  our  affairs, 
and  my  wife  feels  as  if  it  were  almost  like  going  to  Boston."  This 
was  written  towards  the  close  of  Lent  —  a  season  during  which  he 
had  been  endeavoring  to  awaken  a  new  interest  in  the  parish,  by  an 
increase  of  his  labors,  and  by  adding  to  the  number  of  his  public 
services.  During  these  laborious  duties  he  was  often  admonished, 
by  the  recurrence  of  his  old  malady,  the  headache,  and  by  the 
demands  for  medical  treatment,  that  his  health  was  probably  suffer- 
ing by  these  excessive  exertions.  But  every  selfish  consideration 
was  merged  in  the  desire  to  do  good  to  others ;  and  he  pursued,  to 
the  end  of  the  season,  a  course  which  he  deemed  most  conformable 
to  his  duty  to  his  God  and  his  people.  But  to  show  that  rest,  when 
it  could  be  consistently  indulged,  was  most  welcome  to  him,  it  is 
only  necessary  to  cite  a  single  passage  from  his  letter  dated  Monday 
in  Easter  week :  "  The  labors  of  the  Lent  season  are  now  fairly  over, 
37 


290  MEMOIR   OF  WTLLIAil   CROSWELL.  [1842. 

and  we  can  once  more  breathe  freely."  Speaking  of  parish  matters, 
he  says,  "At  our  parish  meeting,  to-day,  the  best  spirit  seemed  to 
prevail.  At  my  suggestion,  we  had  a  statement  of  the  moneys 
raised  and  disbursed  by  the  parish  since  last  Easter  printed  and 
distributed  in  the  pews  yesterday,  for  the  information  of  the  parish, 
which  has  helped  to  produce  a  very  happy  effect."  To  this  allusion 
to  the  temporalities  of  the  Church,  he  adds,  "  What  ought  now 
chiefly  to  occupy  my  anxieties  is,  that  the  spiritual  interests  of  the 
parish  should  not  be  allowed  to  suffer  in  my  hands.  The  bishop 
writes  me  that  he  purposes  to  confirm  on  Whit-Sunday.  I  hope  we 
shall  have  some  candidates." 

His  several  letters  to  his  father  and  other  correspondents,  in  the 
month  of  April,  are  chiefly  occupied  with  private  matters  ;  but  the 
critical  remarks  on  two  popular  authors,  in  the  following  passage, 
are  well  worth  transcribing  :  "  We  have  just  received  from  Mrs. 
Carpenter  a  copy  of  Stephens's  Central  America,  the  reading  of 
which  I  have  hitherto  postponed,  since  I  knew  she  had  it  in  store 
for  me.  I  anticipate  a  large  share  of  the  universal  interest  it  affai-ds. 
I  have  seen  enough  only  to  make  me  regret  that  some  thorough 
paleographist  could  not  be  employed  in  deciphering  the  hieroglyph- 
ical  inscriptions  on  the  ruins  of  those  ancient  cities.  At  present  we 
are  perusing  Robinson  with  great  satisfaction,  from  the  entire  con- 
fidence that  is  to  be  placed  on  the  soundness  of  his  judgment,  as 
well  as  the  profoundness  of  his  learning  and  his  scrupulous  accu- 
racy. He  seems  to  have  expected  to  find  no  hair-breadth  escapes 
and  perilous  adventures  wherewith  to  take  romantic  readers  cap- 
tive, and  accordingly  found  none.  The  dangers  and  encounters, 
which  fill  so  many  pages  in  Stephens  and  other  popular  travels, 
either  do  not  exist  at  all,  or  are  greatly  magnified  by  a  lively  imagi- 
nation. At  any  rate,  they  did  not  make  a  sufficient  impression  on 
Robinson's  mind  to  find  place  on  his  record.  His  work  is  quite 
as  instructive  and  valuable  to  the  judicious,  notwithstanding." 

From  his  3Iay  correspondence  larger  selections  may  be  made ; 
not,  however,  without  a  due  regard  to  the  rules  of  propriety  and 
delicacy.  On  the  4th  he  writes,  "  Virgil,  dear  father,  was  great 
among  the  ancients  for  his  pastorals ;  but  truly  his  pastorals  were 
nothing  to  yours,  though  there  is  not  quite  so  much  poetry  in  these 
last.  There  is  something  better,  however.  Like  Moses,  you 
have  the  burden  of  a  great  people  upon  you  ;  but  your  arms  are 
strengthened,  like  his,  in  the  day  of  necessity  ;  and  I  trust,  like  his, 
your  bow  will  long  abide  in  strength.  As  I  have  often  remarked  to 
you,  doubtless  the  labor  often  seems  hard  to  you,  (most  men  it  would 
overpower,)  but  it  would  seem  much  harder  for  you  not  to  labor 
while  it  is  called  to-day.  For  my  own  part,  I  often  wish  that  I  had 
more  to  do  here.  The  cares  of  the  parish  do  not  often  sit  heavy 
enough  to  be  really  felt.     I  have  preached  and  exhorted,  in  season. 


1842.1  ST.   PETER'S,   AUBTJUX.  291 

and  out  of  season,  as  some  would  think;  but  there  is  nothing  to 
encourage  me  that  there  will  be  a  large  number  to  present  for  con- 
firmation. The  angel  of  our  church  will  need  to  have  grace,  like 
that  of  St.  Peter,  on  the  first  Whit-Sunday,  to  prick  this  multitude 
at  the  heart,  and  raise  the  main  question,  What  must  we  do  ?  We 
have  full  congregations  of  respectful  and  attentive  hearers;  but  they 
are  too  apt  to  be  ♦  hearers  only.'  Men  are  not  forward,  as  you 
would  suppose  they  could  not  but  be,  to  confess  the  faith  of  Christ 
crucified.  However,  we  are  not  without  some  examples.  We  shall 
baptize  to-morrow,  probably,  several  adults,  it  being  Ascension  day, 
and  more,  I  think,  on  the  Sunday  following." 

The  bishop's  visit  is  noted  in  his  next  letter,  May  17,  on  which  he 
held  an  ordination  and  confirmed  fourteen  persons.  "  It  was,"  he 
says,  "  a  memorably  impi'essive  day,  never  to  be  forgotten.  The 
number  of  candidates,  though  not  large,  will  be,  I  trust,  the  first 
fruits  of  a  greater  harvest  by  and  by." 

Miss  Helen  C 's  return  to  Boston  afforded  him  an  oppor- 
tunity to  address  several  letters  to  his  friends,  all  dated  on  the  25th 
of  May.  To  his  friend  Couthouy  he  writes,  "  Helen  has,  at  sun- 
dry times  and  in  divers  manners,  visited  the  haunts  of  Fort  Hill  and 
the  Little  Falls.  Every  thing  is  now  verdant  and  vernal  as  spring 
can  make.  The  trees  are  in  full  leaf,  vocal  at  early  prime,  with 
most  musical,  most  melancholy  notes.  The  robin  that  in  the  church- 
yard builds  her  nest  has  been  pouring  forth  a  continuous  swell  of 
plaintive  melody,  in  lamentation  as  it  were  of  Helen's  departure. 
I  trow  she  will  think  of  it  sometimes,  when  she  comes  across  that 
passage  of  the  old  eighty-fourth  :  '  The  birds,  more  happy  far  than  I, 
around  thy  temple  throng.'  The  leaves  of  the  locust  are  large 
enough  to  checker  the  sunlight  that  plays  on  my  table,  and  the  dan- 
delions, of  the  most  dazzling  brightness  and  in  unprecedented  mul- 
titude, shine  in  the  grass  of  the  churchyard,  like  stars  of  the  first 
magnitude  in  a  dark  night,  when  all  the  host  of  heaven  are  out.  I 
am  unequal  to  describe  the  scene,  especially  in  my  present  haste. 
Methinks  the  author  of  Chapters  on  Churchyards  could  make  a 
very  pretty  picture,  of  inferior  materials  than  these,  and  in  her  pecu- 
liar and  inimitable  way.  Since  the  spring  opened,  we  should  have 
been  glad  to  have  pursued  our  botanical  excursions  a  little  more 
thoroughly ;  but  higher  duties  to  the  human  species  made  it  impos- 
sible to  attend  to  the  vegetable.  As  it  is,  however,  I  have  collected 
some  of  the  more  common  plants  of  the  seasou  ;  and  am  satisfied, 
from  the  few  experiments  I  have  made,  that  much  greater  perfection 
is  to  be  obtained  in  the  art  of  pressing  than  is  exiiibited  in  most 
herbariums." 

To  Miss  Harris,  after  saying  how  difficult  it  is  to  reconcile  them- 
selves to  the  idea  of  parting  with  Helen,  he  writes,  "  We  received 
a   most  expressive   package   yesterday  by   Harnden's   express,  the 


292  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1842. 

contents  of  which  were  enough  to  make  any  lady  hghtheaded.  I 
fear  its  effect  upon  a  poor  parson's  wife  will  he,  to  make  her  too 
proud,  hoth  of  the  gift  and  of  having  such  friends  as  the  givers. 
Those  who  see  them  cannot  blame  us  for  having  left  so  much 
of  oTir  affections  hehind  us,  or  that  we  are  wrapping  up  ourselves, 
and  all  tliat  belong  to  us,  in  such  Jinc  spun  Boston  notions. 
Helen  will  take  with  her  a  copy  of  Mrs.  Southey's  Chapters  on 
Churchyards,  which  I  commend  to  your  reading.  She  is,  judging 
from  internal  evidence,  the  author  of  those  'Scenes  in  our  Parish' 
which  was  always  an  especial  favorite  of  mine,  and  I  think  calculated 
to  take  captive  any  heart  that  has  been  smitten  with  a  passion  for 
the  sacred  picturesque,  or  whose  sympathies  and  tastes  are  alive  to 
whatever  is  lovely  and  of  good  report.  I  send  you  also  a  copy  of 
Coxe's  Athanasion.  The  author  is  a  youth  of  extraordinary  talent, 
and  his  poetry  conceived  in  a  true  catholic  spirit.  I  do  not  know 
that  it  will  make  any  converts  to  the  true  Church,  but  it  will  appeal 
strongly  to  the  affinities  of  those  who  have  attained  by  grace  to  a 
knowledge  of  the  same  more  excellent  way.  Winslow's  Remains 
give  evidence  of  a  spirit  of  the  same  temper ;  and  you  will  be  glad 
to  know  that  his  memoir,  and  a  selection  of  his  writings,  are  to  be 
published  in  the  series  of  Oxford  reprints." 

In  a  short  letter  to  Miss  Lucy  A.  Clark  and  sisters,  he  writes, 
"  I  need  not  say,  dear  friends,  how  much  we  regret  to  part  with 
Helen  just  now,  chiefly  on  our  own  account,  but  somewhat  also  on 
hers.  We  flatter  ourselves  that  her  health  and  spirits  have  of  late 
been  fast  reviving  under  the  irresistible  influences  of  rural  quiet, 
congenial  society,  and  the  vernal  visitation  of  all  that  combine  to 
make  the  country  attractive  and  delightful.  We  feel,  however, 
that  we  ought  not  to  repine  at  the  decision,  or  wonder  at  your 
unwillingness  to  spare  her  longer.  Rather  let  us  be  grateful  that 
you  have  allowed  us  to  detain  her  beyond  her  original  intention  ;  and 
rejoice  to  indulge  the  hope,  that  it  will  not  be  long  before  we  shall 
meet  again." 

On  the  30th  of  May,  instead  of  writing  to  his  father,  he  addressed 
a  letter  to  his  cousin  Elizabeth  Sherman.  This  letter  is  full  of 
reminiscences  of  his  boyish  days,  which  show  the  peculiar  state  of 
his  feelings  at  the  time  ;  but  only  a  portion  of  them  can  be  trans- 
ferred to  these  pages.  "  I  ought  to  apprise  you,  dear  cousin,  that  I 
have  just  been  diluting  my  ink  with  a  little  shai-j)  vinegar,  and  cannot 
promise  any  thing  very  agreeable  from  a  pen  so  dipped  in  acid.  I 
flatter  myself,  however,  that  you  would  prefer  to  have  it  even  so 
than  not  at  all.  .  .  .  Do  you  know  that  a  longer  period  has 
elapsed  since  we  have  met  together  than  ever  before  since  I  left 
home  ?  We  cannot  go  to  you,  but  you  can  come  to  us ;  and  the 
way  is  as  easy  as  a  walk  down  Chapel  Street,  and  hardly  costs  more, 
indeed,  than   a  morning's  shopping."     He  here  alludes,  as  in  his 


1842.]  ST.  PETERS,   AUBURN.  293 

foregoing  letter  to  his  friend  Couthout,  to  the  beautiful  appearance 
of  the  churchyard,  and  proceeds  :  "  We  are  all  ready,  here,  you  may 
be  sure,  as  ever,  to  make  much  of  you.  The  people  I  know  vou 
would  greatly  like,  and  the  feelings  would  be  reciprocal.  And  what 
more,  as  the  apostle  writes,  need  I  say  to  move  you?  Lo  !  the  win- 
ter is  past,  the  rain  is  over  and  gone ;  the  flowers  appear  on  the 
earth ;  the  time  of  the  singing  birds  is  come,  and  the  voice  of  the 
turtle  is  heard  in  our  land  ;  the  fig  tree  putteth  forth  her  green  figs, 
and  the  vines  with  the  tender  grape  give  a  good  smell."  Speaking, 
with  some  emotion,  of  his  domestic  cares  and  solicitude,  he  says, 
"  There  is  a  boding  sound  in  my  ear,  even  as  I  write.  A  pair  of 
robins  have  made  our  mornings  lively  all  this  spring  with  their 
cheerfid  notes.  A  few  days  since  the  female  was  missing,  (our  cat 
probably  best  knows  how,)  and  it  has  been  perfectly  distressing  to 
hear  the  perpetual  lament  of  the  survivor.  These  lines  tell  the  rest. 
They  have  never  before  been  committed  to  paper,  and  should  not 
be  seen  by  other  eyes  at  present  :  — 


All  day,  from  yonder  churchyard  tree, 

The  redbreast,  mourning  for  his  mate, 
Has  poured  that  thrilling  elegy, 

Heart  broken  and  disconsolate. 
Her  favorite  bough  he  never  leaves  ; 

He  never  ceases  to  complain  ; 
But  grieves,  as  if,  like  man,  he  grieves 

The  more  because  he  grieves  in  vain. 

Poor  bird !  a  troubled  thought  they  wake,  - 

Those  notes  of  unaffected  sorrow,  — 
The  thought  how  this  sad  heart  may  ache 

With  that  same  bitter  pang  to-morrow. 
I  dare  not  think  what  clouds  of  gloom 

Upon  our  sunny  hopes  may  fall, 
And  in  one  hour  of  bliss  may  doom 

Dear  mate,  and  nest,  and  nestlings  all ! '' 


He  concludes  this  interesting  letter  with  a  message  to  his  father: 
"Tell  him  to  set  about  his  autohiography  while  it  is  yet  in  his  power. 
We  see  every  day  how  facts  are  misapprehended,  even  by  those  who 
would  fain  tell  the  truth  of  their  contemporaries.  Indeed,  these  mis- 
takes convince  me  that  there  is  little  confidence  to  be  placed  in  the 
history  of  past  times,  unless  the  actors  have  also  been  the  narrators, 
and  not  always  then.  He  need  not  publish,  but  leave  it  among  his 
posthumous  papers." 


294  MEMOIR   OF  AVILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1842. 

Happily,  the  boding  strains  in  the  preceding  letter  were  soon 
changed  to  those  of  joy  and  gratulation.  On  the  4th  of  June  he 
writes,  "I  hasten  to  apprise  you,  dear  parents  and  friends,  that  a  little 
daughter  was  born  unto  us  this  morning,  and  that  both  the  mother 
and  the  child  are  doing  remarkably  well."  He  expresses  great 
thankfulness  to  God  for  this  distinguished  mercy ;  and  after  hailing, 
as  an  auspicious  omen  on  the  occasion,  the  appearance  of  a  rainbow 
in  the  west,  he  proceeds :  "  I  need  not  say  that  this  is  a  very  bright 
day  for  us,  and  that  there  is  great  joy  in  the  household,  not  to  say 
parish,  which  will  be  cordially  recij^rocated,  I  am  sure,  by  the  many 
dear  hearts  to  whom  these  tidings  will  come.  Our  hearts'  desire  is 
fulfilled  in  the  gift  of  a  daughter  rather  than  a  son ;  and  in  this 
feeling  I  am  sure,  at  least,  of  mother's  sympathies.  May  they  both 
be  spared  long  enough  to  fill  the  void  long  since  left  in  her  heart 
by  those  who  are  not  lost,  but  gone  before." 

This  welcome  event  was  made  the  subject  of  many  pleasant  and 
interesting  communications  to  his  friends,  in  some  of  which  he 
minutely  describes,  in  a  playfid  spirit,  not  only  the  features  and  the 
lineaments  of  the  new-born  child,  but  also  the  disposition  and  traits 
of  character  which  were  thought  to  develop  themselves,  as  belonging 
to  her  by  hereditary  right.  His  next  object  was  to  see  to  the  early 
baptism  of  the  child.  "  I  shall  feel,"  he  says,  "  that  consistency  with 
the  rubrics  and  my  ordination  vow,  so  to  frame  and  fashion  my  own 
life  and  that  of  my  family  as  to  make  them  wholesome  examples  to 
the  flock  of  Christ,  will  constrain  me  not  to  defer  the  baptism." 
The  feast  of  St.  John  the  Baptist  was  first  appointed  for  the  pur- 
pose ;  but  as  that  day  proved  unpropitious,  on  account  of  the  weather, 
"  we  wait,"  he  remarks,  "in  submission,  for  the  first  fair  holy  day  or 
Sunday  ;  hoping,  however,  that  it  may  be  as  soon  as  that  of  our 
patron  saint,  on  the  29th,  not  without  fervent  aspirations 

"  That  she,  marked  with  salvation's  sign, 
May  enter  on  the  life  divine 

In  Christ's  appomted  way, 
At  vespers,  in  St.  Peter's  shrine, 
Upon  St.  Peter's  day. 

"Excuse  me  for  dilating  on  this  matter  as  if  it  were  of  as  much 
moment  as  the  ceremonies  of  the  baptism  of  his  highness  the  prince  ; 
for  is  it  not  in  fact  of  much  more  moment  to  me  1  and  am  I  not 
speaking  '  to  kind,  attentive  ears  '  ?  We  feel  that  we  can  ask  noth- 
ing more  for  the  child  than  that  she  may  grow  in  grace  as  fast  as 
she  grows  in  favor  with  fond  parental  partiality,  — 

Making  such  visions  to  the  sight 
As  fill  a  father's  eyes  with  light, 


1842.]  ST.  PETER'S,  AUBURN.  295 

And  pleasures  flow  in  so  thick  and  fast 
Upon  his  heart,  that  he  at  last 
Must  needs  express  his  love's  excess 
With  words  of  unmeant  bitterness." 

Being  again  disappointed,  however,  on  this  day  and  the  succeeding 
Sunday,  the  anticipated  rite  was  deferred  until  the  second  »Sunday 
in  July,  when  it  was  duly  performed  by  the  Rev.  Amos  G.  Baldwin, 
and  she  received  a  name  which  had  ever  been  a  favorite  in  the 
maternal  side  of  the  family.  "  She  will  be  called  Mary,"  he  says, 
"  after  the  '  blessed  among  women,'  as  well  as  her  own  grandmother 
and  aunt,  of  precious  memory." 

Among  the  pleasurable  incidents  of  this  month  was  the  visit  of 
the  young  mother's  sister.  '<  Delia's  arrival,"  he  says,  "  aftords  us 
as  much  genuine  delight  as  it  seems  to  afford  her.  .  .  .  We 
come  nearest  to  being  perfectly  happy  when  we  have  our  Boston 
friends  to  commune  with  of  the  past  and  future,  and  to  go  again  to 
the  house  of  God  in  company." 

In  looking  over  his  correspondence  for  .Tuly,  passages  like  the 
following  are  found  in  letters  to  his  friends  the  Rev.  Dr.  Strong 
and  J.  P.  CouTHOUY,  Esq.  For  the  sentiments  thus  expressed,  no 
apology  can  be  necessary.  He  wrote  as  he  felt,  and  few  persons 
can  be  found  at  this  day  to  call  in  question  the  correctness  of  his 
representations.  "  All  things  have  gone  well  with  me,  thus  far,  in 
domestic  and  parochial  affairs.  Still,  I  cannot  say  that  our  hearts 
are  here  as  much,  perhaps,  as  they  ought  to  be ;  and  we  Uve  more 
at  the  east  than  the  west.  Indeed,  under  any  circumstances;  there 
is  hardly  room  for  the  same  attachments.  Like  most  of  the  western 
villages,  Auburn  is  made  up  of  heterogeneous  residents,  who  have 
been  brought  here  by  accident,  and  whom  any  accident  may  again 
scatter.  The  majority  of  the  population  have  probably  been  here 
less  than  five  years,  and  have  not  yet  found  their  stopping-place.  Of 
course,  there  are  not  the  same  cominon  interests  as  in  those  older 
settlements,  whose  inhabitants  have  sprung  from  a  common  stock,  and 
feel  as  much  identified  with  their  birthplace  as  with  their  families. 
But  I  have  said  enough  to  show  you  which  way  the  current  sets ; 
and  out  of  the  heart's  abundance  the  mouth  speaketh." 

In  a  similar  spirit  he  writes  to  his  mother,  and  then  adds,  "  It  is 
observed  by  Southey,  that,  live  as  long  as  you  may,  the  first  twenty 
years  are  the  longest  half  of  a  man's  life.  And  I  know,  by  expe- 
rience, that  there  are  no  friends  like  those  of  that  delightful  period. 
It  teaches  us  to  cherish  our  homebred  delights,  and  seems  to  inti- 
mate a  renewal  of  our  most  endearing  relations,  when  founded  on 
virtuous  affections,  beyond  the  grave.  May  we  learn  the  lesson. 
With  these  impressions,  let  me  most  lovingly  salute  all  the  surviving 
friends  of  my  youth  who  are  yet  about  you." 


296  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1842. 

The  following  extract  from  a  letter  to  the  late  Mrs.  Dr.  Sumner, 
of  Hartford,  is  also  deeply  imbued  with  the  same  spirit  :  "  Doubt 
not,  dear  friend,  my  heart  leaps  up  at  the  summons  to  join  the  circle 
of  old,  familiar  faces  at  commencement  ;  and  I  feel  like  a  captive 
Israelite  at  the  thought  of  celebrating  the  feast  of  remembrance  with 
his  loved  ones,  in  his  own  far-off"  land.  More  than  I  can  tell,  do  I 
long  to  see  dear  Mrs.  Brinley's  face  once  more  in  the  flesh,  and  to 
take  lessons  in  patient  waiting  for  Christ.  But  it  does  not  yet  please 
the  Lord  to  turn  our  captivity  as  the  rivers  of  the  south.  When  he 
does,  be  sure  we  will  sing  the  one  hundred  twenty-sixth  Psalm  in 
brother  Burgess's  beautiful  version,  which,  according  to  my  ideas, 
is  peculiarly  happy.  .  .  .  We  indulge  the  hope  of  being  per- 
mitted to  follow  our  hearts  eastward  in  all  the  autumn,  and,  before 
the  horizon  shuts  down  on  any  narrower  circle  of  endeared  friends, 

'  To  share  again  the  cup  of  grace 
Before  they  part  to  Christ's  embrace, 
We  to  the  lonesome  world  again.'  " 

Extracts  from  the  correspondence  of  the  month  of  August  will  be 
somewhat  limited.  In  his  family  letters  he  does  not  fail  to  keep  his 
parents  duly  apprised  of  every  thing  relating  to  the  well  being  of 
the  young  child  and  her  mother,  which,  as  he  could  not  doubt,  w  ould 
be  most  interesting  to  them.  He  also  speaks  of  his  intended  visit : 
"  We  certainly  do  purpose  a  visit  to  the  east  next  month.  My  wife 
will  not  probably  regain  her  strength  till  she  and  the  sea  are  brought 
together."  And  to  a  brief  sketch  of  the  proceedings  of  the  diocesan 
convention  at  Syracuse,  from  which  he  had  just  returned,  (on  the 
19th,)  he  adds  this  item  of  personal  news  :  "I  have  gained  a  great 
loss  in  being  elected  a  member  of  the  standing  committee,  a  yoke 
to  which  I  did  not  care  to  be  again  subjected,  after  being  once 
released  from  it  in  Boston.  Whatever  the  honor  might  be,  it  came, 
at  any  rate,  unsought ;  and  my  vicinity  to  Geneva  seemed  to  make 
it  desirable,  at  least,  to  the  other  members." 

In  a  pleasant  letter  of  August  26  to  his  friend  Couthouy,  con- 
gratulating him  on  the  birth  of  a  son,  he  says,  "I  care  much  less 
that  he  should  be  a  '■pier  of  the  realm  '  than  a  pillar  of  Christ  Church 
in  those  golden  days  of  her  prosperity  which  yet  await  every  true 
branch  of  the  Holy  Catholic  Church  throughout  the  world.  He 
shall  not  want  my  prayers  that  he  may  be  a  burning  and  shining 
light  in  the  ancient  candlestick,  and  that  many  may  rejoice  in  his 
light." 

The    last  letter   of   the   month,  addressed   to   his  "dear   young 

friend  "  Miss  H ,  is  transferred  almost  entire  to  these  pages, 

omitting  only  such  passages  as  relate  to  local  matters  or  to  subjects 
already  noted  in  other  letters.      "  Our  friends  come  hke  shadows  — 


1842.]  ST.    PETER'S,    AUBURN.  097 

so  depart.  It  seems  like  a  dream  that  I  have  heen  to  the  conven- 
tion at  Syracuse."  Among  other  dreams,  he  says,  "  I  am  sure  I 
saw  the  Ukeness  of  a  form,  which,  once  seen,  can  never  be  forgotten  — 
that  of  the  Rev.  Mr. ,  who  desired  me  to  help  him  find  a  par- 
ish. ...  I  told  the  bishop  he  would  answer  for  some  parisli 
of  moderate  expectations.  '  My  dear  friend,'  says  the  right  rev- 
erend, « will  you  tell  me  where  there  is  such  a  parish  ?  They  call 
upon  me  from  all  quarters  to  send  them  jirst-rate  men,  and  they  will 

pay  hiin  perhaps  three  hundred  dollars  ! '     Mr. thinks  he  may, 

without  vanity,  estimate  himself  at  a  higher  value  than  this,  and  will 
not  probably  get  any  place  in  this  diocese.  •  .  .  Since  my 
return  from  convention,  there  has  been  a  constant  stream  of  transient 
company  at  the  minister's  tavern  ;  and  the  entertainment  has  given 
such  good  satisfaction,  that  we  have  the  promise  of  almost  as  much 
patronage  as  the  American  Hotel.  .  .  .  This  week  we  have 
some  of  our  household  friends  from  New  Haven  and  Hudson  to 
make  us  glad ;  and  last,  but  not  least,  young  John  Henry  Hobart, 
on  his  way  to  Wisconsin,  has  been  spending  the  night  and  the  day 
amid  the  scenes  of  his  father's  last  hours,  and  where  his  saintly 
spirit  seems  ever,  in  my  mind's  eye,  to  brood.  He  is  such  a  son  as 
such  a  father  might  regard  with  heavenly  complacency,  as  he  bends 
from  the  seats  of  the  blessed  in  paradise.  .  .  .  Next  week,  if 
we  are  permitted  to  carry  the  thoughts  of  our  hearts  into  effect,  we 
shall  probably  be  with  you  in  Boston.  We  must  be  three  days  on 
the  road,  and  I  confess  the  journey  seems  formidable.  I  confess, 
also,  that  it  seems  the  more  so  as  I  look  beyond  the  meeting  to  the 
parting,  and  the  loneliness  of  the  return.  .  .  .  We  have  sad 
news  from  Hartford  of  Mrs.  Brinley's  health.  She  is  very  desirous 
to  see  me  once  more  before  she  dies,  and  I  am  no  less  anxious  to 
be  there.  I  hope  we  shall  not  be  too  late.  She  is  one  of  those 
who  have  come  out  of  great  tribulation,  and  is  ripe  for  heaven." 
To  this  is  added  his  own  introduction  to  the  beautiful  lines  which 
he  enclosed  in  the  same  letter  :  "  I  purpose  to  make  a  collection  of 
original  and  selected  poetry  for  the  children  of  Christ  Church  Sun- 
day school,  in  which  I  shall  weave  some  topics  of  local  interest 
into  simple  ballad  rhymes ;  and,  without  being  pretending,  I  hope 
it  may  be  useful  to  them  and  others.  I  send  you  one  of  the 
many  contemplations,  in  which  I  often  indulge,  on  some  aspect  of 
tlie  same  sacred  theme,  and  which  I  intend  to  cast  into  some  poet- 
ical mould,  if  not  for  others'  solace,  at  least  for  my  own.  With  the 
understanding  that  it  is  to  be  kept  out  of  the  prints,  I  have  no 
objection  to  its  being  copied  by  any  of  our  friends  who  would  think 
it  worth  the  while." 
38 


^S  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1842. 


CHRIST   CHURCH,  BOSTON. 


"  I  know  thy  works,  and  where  thou  dwellest,  even  where  Sa 
and  thou  boldest  fast  thy  name,  and  hast  not  denied  my  faith.' 


Not  for  thy  pomp  and  pride  of  place, 

Not  for  thy  relics  rare 
Of  kings,  and  ministers  of  grace 

Whose  names  thy  vessels  bear ; 
Not  for  thy  boast  of  high  degree, 

Nor  charms  of  gorgeous  style, 
Hast  thou  been  ever  dear  to  me, 

0  thou  time-honored  pile  ! 

But  for  thy  constant  truth,  which  still 

Preserves,  from  age  to  age, 
Unmoved,  through  good  report  and  ill, 

The  Father's  heritage ; 
Which  firmly  as  the  hills  remains, 

As  years  have  o'er  thee  swept. 
And  singly,  'mid  apostate  fanes, 

The  ancient  faith  has  kept. 

For  sixscore  years  thy  lofty  vault 

With  those  ascriptions  ring. 
Which  lift  the  soul,  while  they  exalt 

The  Christ,  of  Glory  King. 
And  well  might  walls,  so  taught,  cry  out, 

If  human  lips  were  dumb. 
And  aisles  spontaneous  swell  the  shout 

Until  the  Bridegroom  come.* 

For  this,  how  oft  my  spirit  longs 
To  tread  thy  courts !     How  stirs 

My  inmost  heart  to  join  thy  throngs 
Of  earnest  worshippers ! 

For  this,  how  oft,  on  bended  knee, 

1  ask,  dear  Church,  to  see 

No  drought  on  other's  husbandry. 
But  much  of  dew  on  thee  ! 


*  As  Ckrist  Church  is  one  of  the  few  houses  of  worship  in  Boston  which 
has  sui-vived  the  vicissitudes  of  a  centmy,  so  it  should  be  a  matter  of  grateful 
commemoration  that  it  is  the  only  one  of  that  few  that  has  held  fa.st  the  pro- 
fession of  its  faith  without  wavering. 


1842.]  ST.   PETER'S,   AUBURN. 

Though  many  have  afflicted  thee, 

And  all  tliy  ways  despise, 
And  turn,  with  gayer  company. 

To  where  new  shrines  arise  ; 
Here  let  thy  children  keep  their  feet, 

And  do  not  yet  despair 
That  they  who  scorn  thee  yet  may  meet 

Before  thy  shrine  in  prayer. 

Though  cheerless  to  the  eye  of  sense, 

A  land  that  none  pass  through, 
Eternal  is  thine  excellence 

Which  shall  be  brought  to  view. 
And  on  thy  gates  the  stranger's  son 

Shall,  in  God's  time,  record, 
"  The  Zion  of  the  Holy  One, 

TheCity  of  theLord!"* 


The  journey  to  the  east,  which  he  was  so  fondly  anticipating,  was 
commenced,  after  some  unforeseen  causes  of  delay,  on  the  7th  of 
September.  It  was  performed  by  easy  stages,  for  the  accommoda- 
tion of  the  young  mother  and  child,  and  it  was  not  until  the  10th 
that  they  arrived  in  Boston.  Having  taken  the  route  by  th^  way 
of  Pittsfield,  he  found  time,  while  detained  at  the  Berkshire  House, 
to  write  a  short  letter  to  his  cousin  Elizabeth,  giving  such  a  sketch 
of  the  journey,  and  the  good  condition  of  at  least  one  important 
personage  among  the  travellers,  as  he  knew  would  he  very  welcome 
at  home.  "  We  are  all  in  excellent  health.  The  baby  proves,  as 
we  hoped,  an  excellent  traveller,  and  sleeps  most  of  the  way.  We 
were  prevented,  yesterday,  from  getting  on  any  farther  than  this 
by  the  storm.  It  was  well  that  we  did  not.  The  house  is  very 
comfortable,  and  we  have  the  prospect  of  a  glorious  day  to  com- 
plete the  rest  of  our  journey."  He  next  writes  to  his  mother  from 
Cambridge,  September  12  :  "  It  was  a  bright  and  glorious  morning 
when  we  left  Pittsfield  on  Saturday,  and  the  whole  route,  from  the 
western  border  of  the  state  to  Springfield,  exceeds  in  wild  and  pic- 
turesque beauty  and  mountain  scenery  any  tiling  which  I  have  yet 
met  with  on  our  travels.  What  is  of  more  moment,  our  young 
charge  was  perfectly  quiet  and  well  behaved,  sleeping  away  the 
roughness  of  the  hours.  We  arrived  at  the  old  scene  of  our  labors 
at  half  past  seven,  and  were  soon  surrounded  by  welcoming  guests. 


*  "Whereas  thou  hast  been  forsaken  and  hated,  so  that  no  man  went 
through  thee,  I  will  make  thee  an  eternal  excellency,  a  joy  of  many  genera- 
tions." —  Is.  Ix.  15. 


300  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM    CROSTN^ELL.  [1842. 

I  had  sundry  invitations  from  the  highest  quarters  to  fill  at  least 
half  a  dozen  pulpits,  but  had  the  fortitude  to  refuse  them  all,  being 
determined  to  have  the  enjoyment  of  a  hearer  after  the  fatigues  of 
the  journey.  I  accordingly  visited  Trinity,  Grace,  and  St.  John's 
Church,  Charlestown,  and  received  most  cordial  salutations  from 
clergy  and  laity.  I  had  almost  forgotten  to  say  that  I  baptized,  in 
addition,  the  child  of  our  friend  Codthouy,  by  the  name  of  Wil- 
liam Croswell.  ...  It  will  not  be  many  days,  I  trust,  be- 
fore we  shall  have  the  happiness  of  presenting  ourselves  before  you, 
to  receive  your  motherly  benediction  for  ourselves  and  ours.  It  will 
be  necessary  that  my  wife  should  rest  a  while,  to  recover  her  health 
and  strength,  which,  I  am  happy  to  say,  has  been  much  improved 
by  the  change  of  air  and  scene.  .  .  .  To-day  we  rode  out  to 
this  favorite  resort  of  other  days,  to  pass  a  few  hours  with  our  kind 
and  excellent  friend  Mrs.  Carpenter  ;  and  I  avail  myself  of  the 
short  interval  before  dinner  to  scribble  a  few  lines.  I  expect  to 
spend  several  days  here  with  wife  and  Mary,  before  we  take  up 
our  line  of  march  for  Connecticut." 

Writing  to  his  father  on  the  21st,  ho  speaks  in  the  most  grateful 
terms  of  the  manner  in  which  they  had  been  received,  both  public- 
ly and  privately,  in  Boston.  He  had  been  induced,  on  the  previous 
Sunday,  to  preach  all  day  in  his  old  church,  and  was  welcomed  by 
overflowing  congregations.  While  on  this  visit,  he  was  solicited  by 
his  friends  to  sit  for  his  picture  ;  but  as  his  time  was  short,  there 
was  only  one  way  in  which  he  could  gratify  them.  He  says,  "  I 
spent  an  hour  or  two  yesterday  in  having  my  head  taken  oft'  by 
the  daguerre  operation.  The  light,  however,  was  not  very  good, 
and  the  experiment  not  altogether  successful.  I  am  to  try  again  on 
Monday,  if  the  weather  favors  ;  and  if  it  be  possible  to  make  a 
favorable  impression  in  this  way,  I  intend  to  give  you  the  benefit 
of  it.  If  they  do  not  give  the  best  impression,  as  Dr.  Boyle  says, 
they  do  at  least  transfer  the  features  with  the  vnosi.  frightful  fidelity." 
After  several  attempts,  the  artist  finally  succeeded  in  an  admira- 
ble and  lifelike  representation  of  his  features,  mild,  quiet  and 
placid  as  they  tlien  were,  undisturbed  by  the  convulsive  muscular 
motion  which,  in  after  years,  so  grievously  aftected  him.  Several 
copies  of  this  picture  were  subsequently  taken,  and  have  ever  been 
held  in  high  estimation  by  his  friends. 

From  a  letter  to  his  father,  of  the  28th,  the  following  account  is 
transcribed  of  an  event  on  which  but  a  single  remark  will  be  offered  : 
of  the  sincerity  of  the  ejaculation  cited  at  the  close,  no  doubt  can  be 
entertained;  and  it  serves  to  show  how  deeply  his  heart  was  imbued 
with  the  charity  that  hopeth  all  things.  "  Yesterday  was  a  day  of 
great  serenity  in  the  elements  of  this  visible  world,  and  not  less  so 
in  the  councils  of  that  portion  of  Christ's  visible  Church  convened  in 
Trinity  Church,  Boston.     A  larger  representation  of  the  clergy  and 


1842.]  ST.   PETER'S,   AUBURN.  301 

laity  of  the  diocese  of  Massachusetts  was  assembled  than  on  any 
former  occasion.  After  tlie  usual  solemnities  at  the  opening  of  the 
convention,  and  the  administration  of  the  holy  communion,  the  ven- 
erable bishop  introduced  the  momentous  subject  whicli  had  brought 
them  together  in  a  most  affectionate  and  touching  address.  The 
Rev.  Dr.  Strong,  of  Greenfield,  the  senior  presbyter  of  the  diocese, 
thereupon  followed  in  a  strain  of  impressive  remark,  and  moved  a 
resolution  that  the  convention  do  now  proceed  to  the  election  of  an 
assistant  bishop,  who  shall  also  succeed  the  present  diocesan,  in  case 
he  survive  him.  This  passed  unanimously  and  without  debate. 
After  solemn  and  secret  prayer  for  the  guidance  of  the  Holy  Spirit 
in  this  important  business,  '  for  the  which  prayers  silence  was  kept 
for  a  spr  ce,'  the  clergy  withdrew  to  '  cast  forth  their  lots.'  The 
whole  Lumber  was  thirty-nine,  all  of  which  were  for  the  Rev.  Man- 
ton  Eastburn,  D.  D.  The  laity  then  withdrew,  and  concurred  in 
said  nomination  Avithout  a  dissenting  voice.  Whereupon  the  Rev. 
Dr.  Eastburn  was  announced  as  elected  by  the  unanimous  voice 
of  ttie  convention.  The  testimonials  were  prepared  and  signed 
forthwith,  and  after  another  pause  for  silent  gratitude  to  that  Blessed 
Spirit  who  '  maketh  men  to  be  of  one  mind  in  a  house,'  the  conven- 
tion united  in  the  rehearsal  of  that  ancient  hymn  of  praise,  Te  Deum 
laudamus.  They  then  adjourned  after  a  short  session  of  two  hours, 
presenting  a  scene  from  first  to  last  of  the  most  delightful  and  un- 
broken harmony,  and  nothing  doubting  that  the  best  thing  possible 
had  been  done  for  the  Cliurch,  and  in  the  best  possible  spirit.  So 
mote  it  be!  " 

Having  obtained  a  further  extension  of  his  leave  of  absence,  he 
remained  in  Boston  until  the  6th  of  October,  including  another  Sun- 
day, and  affording  him  an  opportunii,y  to  gratify  his  friends,  by 
officiating  again  in  the  churcii  of  his  early  affections.  On  this  occa- 
sion he  preached  twice,  administered  the  holy  communion,  attended 
the  Sunday  school,  and  baptized  six  children,  one  among  the  num- 
ber by  the  name  of  "  William  Croswell."  This  delay,  agreeable 
as  it  was  to  him  and  his  friends,  was  nevertheless  the  cause  of  a 
grievous  disappointment,  inasmuch  as  intelligence  of  the  death  of 
Mrs.  Brinley  reached  him  in  the  very  midst  of  his  preparations  for 
leaving  Boston,  and  at  the  moment  when  he  was  indulging  the  hope, 
which  he  had  so  often  expressed,  of  seeing  her  once  more  before  her 
departure  to  her  heavenly  rest.  After  spending  a  night  at  Hartford 
with  their  afl9icted  friends,  they  proceeded  to  New  Haven.  Here 
they  passed  a  pleasant  week  ;  and  then,  returning  by  the  way  of 
Hartford  and  Springfield,  they  pursued  their  way  to  their  western 
home,  and  arrived  at  Auburn  on  Saturday,  the  15th.  "We  found 
ourselves,"  he  says,  in  his  first  letter,  "  much  looked  and  longed  for." 
And  after  giving  a  hasty  sketch  of  the  journey,  he  adds,  that  he  had 
two  services  on  Sunday,  and  reports  himself  and  family  as  all  well. 


3C2  MEMOm   OF  WILLIAM   CRuSWELL.  [1842. 

And  again,  in  a  subsequent  letter,  filled  chiefly  with  details  of  his 
domestic  affairs,  he  says,  "  We  are  all  uncommonly  well ;  and  the 
child,  so  far  from  taking  any  harm  from  her  journey,  seems  to  be 
exceedingly  profited  by  it." 

Thus  with  recruited  health  and  strength  he  is  found  quietly  set- 
tled down  in  his  winter  quarters  among  his  kind  and  attentive 
parishioners;  and  this  again  enables  him  to  resume  his  correspond- 
ence, and  to  revive  his  poetical  propensities.  He  writes  to  his  father 
on  his  thirtj^-eighth  birthday,  November  7,  "These  anniversaries 
have  of  late  flitted  by  so  fast,  that  it  seems  as  if  they  had  come  at 
least  twice  a  year.  '  Verily,  our  days  are  as  a  span  long.'  I  note 
its  passage  chiefly,  I  trust,  to  profit  by  it."  Speaking  here  of  a 
new  Manual  of  Family  Prayer,  which  his  father  was  then  preparing 
for  the  press,  he  expresses  sentiments  which  will  scarcely  be  called 
in  question:  "You  will,  of  course,  not  omit  a  birthday  prayer  in 
your  collection.  I  am  glad  that  it  is  to  be  furnished  at  so  low  a 
price  as  not  to  prevent  its  being  a  sort  of  universal  manual.  It  is  a 
happy  evidence  of  the  increase  of  the  spirit  of  prayer  amongst  us, 
that  such  books  are  more  and  more  in  demand.  It  will,  I  trust, 
supply  the  void  which  we  all  feel  to  exist.  Most  pious  families,  out 
of  the  Church  or  in  it,  begin  to  prefer,  I  believe,  a  simple  spiritual 
form  to  extemporaneous  diflfusive  exercises,  especially  when  so  many, 
even  of  circumcised  lips,  are  rather  those  of  Moses  than  Aaron.  I 
need  not  say,  at  any  rate,  how  glad  we  shall  be  to  use  it,  and  to 
know  in  the  hours  of  our  separation  that  we  are  calling  upon  God 
with  one  mind,  and  with  one  mouth  also.  These  are  associations 
which  the  Church  makes  peculiar  provision  for  cherishing  in  all  her 
public  services ;  and  it  is  good  to  carry  them  deeply  into  our  pri- 
vate devotional  exercises  and  our  household  communion." 

The  following  incidental  remark  is  thrown  out  in  a  letter  of  No- 
vember 14,  among  many  personal  allusions :  "  My  head  is  full  of 
'  unwritten '  essays  in  prose  and  poetry,  on  sundry  subjects,  some 
of  which  I  hope  will  be  ready  for  use  in  the  course  of  the  winter." 

In  a  letter  of  the  same   date,  to  his  friend  Miss  H ,  he  speaks 

still  more  explicitly  on  this  subject.  "  My  heart,  to  tell  the  whole 
truth,  has  been  set  upon  sending  you  some  rhymes  of  the  series 
which  I  have  so  long  contemplated  ;  but  the  hcau  ideal  recedes  like 
the  rainbow  as  you  attempt  to  approach  it,  and  the  consequence  is 
that  you  have  had  neither  rhyme  nor  reason."  Before  dismissing 
this  topic,  he  says,  "  Let  me  not  forget  to  say,  that  if  the  editor  of 
the  Witness  wishes  the  lines  on  Christ  Church,  they  may  have  my 
imprimatur ;  and  if  satisfactory,  they  will,  I  trust,  be  earnests  of  better 
things  to  come.  With  regard  to  the  motto,  I  approve  of  the  sug- 
gestion to  strike  out  the  clause  alluded  to.  It  grates  harshly  upon 
the  ear,  and  perhaps  inspiration  alone  has  a  right  to  make  just  such 
an  application.     It  certainly  would  be  misapprehended  and  resented 


1842.]  ST.  PETER'S,   AUBURN.  303 

in  Boston,  however  true  it  might  be  regarded  of  ancient  Per- 
gamos." 

There  is  something  exquisitely  touching  in  the  following  jjassage, 
which  is  transcribed  from  the  same  letter.  Tlie  child  wiiosc  death 
is  iiere  alluded  to  was  baptized  "  William  Croswell  "  by  his 
own  hand,  while  he  was  last  in  Boston.  "  Poor  Mrs.  Golbert  !  as 
1  rejoiced  with  her  when  I  signed  my  name  upon  that  little  '  blossom 
t)f  being,'  how  my  heart  trembles  to  think  of  the  grief  with  which 
parents  feel  the  loss  of  a  child.  And  '  yet  it  is  one,'  to  use  the 
words  of  my  favorite  country  parson's  daughter,  'which  ought  to 
yield  most  readily  to  the  comforts  of  religion.  Though  the  baby  be 
as  fair  as  ever  sun  shone  upon,  it  is  none  too  fair  for  the  place  he 
has  gone  to.  When  I  see  how  very  much  evil  there  is  in  the  world, 
how  much  "  sin  to  blight,"  how  much  "  sorrow  to  fade,"  can  I  grieve 
tiiat  so  many  frail  buds  are  transplanted  by  the  Lord  of  the  garden 
to  a  fairer  climate  ?  O,  no  !  Jesus  said.  Suffer  little  children  to 
come  unto  me  ;  and  I  do  believe  he  said  it,  not  only  in  reference  to 
the  group  of  young  Israelites  then  gathered  around  him,  nor  merely 
as  an  encouragement  to  Christian  parents  to  trust  their  living  treas- 
ures to  his  care,  but  that  his  omniscient  eye  looked  round  at  that 
moment  on  the  innumerable  multitude  of  these  little  ones,  whom  his 
free  grace  has,  in  all  ages,  called  to  glory.'  I  know  no  more  beau- 
tiful passage  on  the  subject  out  of  the  Scriptures.  Tell  our  afflicted 
friends  how  much  I  think  of  them  in  their  bereavement,  and  that  I 
have  written  out  this  passage  for  their  consolation.  As  I  turn  from 
those  thus  mourning  for  their  little  one  to  the  cradle  at  my  side, 
how  much  cause  have  we  to  rejoice  with  trembling,  that,  while  one 
is  taken,  another  is  left !  Graciously  preserved  through  all  the  perils 
of  a  joaip.ey  of  eight  hundred  miles,  she  reposes  in  health  and  safety 
in  the  house  where  she  was  born." 

But  few  incidents  remain  to  fill  up  the  record  of  the  present  year. 
Besides  the  ordinary  and  current  duties  of  the  parish,  —  including 
sermons  on  Sunday,  morning  and  evening,  and  Sunday  school 
instructions  every  afternoon, — his  preparations  for  the  du^  obser- 
vance of  the  Thanksgiving  and  Christmas  solemnities  added  much 
weight  to  his  cares  ;  and  the  year  closed  as  it  had  begun  and  con- 
tinued, with  frequent,  not  to  say  daily,  returns  of  the  headache. 
He  would  most  cheerfully  have  accepted  a  very  pressing  invitation 
to  attend  the  consecration  of  Bishop  Eastburn,  in  Trinity  Church, 
Boston,  on  the  29th  of  December,  had  it  been  consistent  with  his 
sense  of  duty  to  his  people  ;  and  coming,  as  the  invitation  did,  not 
only  from  many  of  his  excellent  friends  in  Boston,  but  also  from 
his  bishop,  the  refusal  cost  him  the  exercise  of  much  self-denial. 
In  the  mean  time,  however,  he  seems  to  have  sought  a  solace  in 
composing  the  beautiful  pastoral  which  is  subjoined.  These  stan- 
zas were  sent  to  the  Albany  Argus  and  to  the  New  York  Church- 


304  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1842. 

mail  for  publication,  and  from  tliose  papers  they  were  transferred 
to  the  Christian  Witness  and  Church  Chronicle,  and  perhaps  to 
some  other  periodicals.  They  were  also  sent  to  a  friend  in  Boston, 
and  to  his  father,  accompanied  by  this  r.emark :  "  I  send  the  above, 
not  as  a  substitute  for  a  letter,  but  to  show  you  what  I  have  been 
about,  and  as  an  earnest  that  the  sluices  are  in  some  sort  opened 
of  the  old  poetic  feeling,  and  that  I  trust  it  will  flow  out  to  better 
purpose  than  of  late  years." 


A   CBMSTMAS  E\'ENmG   PASTORAL. 


'  Te  shall  have  a  eong  as  in  the  night  when  a  holy  solemnity  is  kept." 

Tsaiafi. 


My  own  dear  Church,  how  can  I  choose 

But  turn,  in  spirit,  back  to  thee. 
As  on  this  hallowed  night  I  lose 

Myself  in  pensive  revery  ? 
For  in  thy  courts  a  single  day, 

'Tis  good,  if,  but  in  thought,  to  dwell ; 
Nor  may  I  tear  my  heart  away 

From  all  that  it  has  loved  so  well. 

How  sweet  to  hear  at  eventide 

The  pealing  of  thy  silver  chime. 
In  tuneful  changes  far  and  wide, 

Give  note  of  coming  Christmas  time  ? 
How  richly  through  the  wintry  sky 

It  floats  !  as  if  the  heavenly  train 
Sang  "  Glory  be  to  God  on  high. 

And  peace  to  peaceful  men," 


While  thus  the  vocal  heavens  invite. 

And  bells  ring  out  in  angel  tone, 
To  Bethlehem  let  us  haste  to-night. 

And  see  the  wonders  there  made  known. 
Thy  radiant  courts  are  all  a-blaze, 

And  brilliant  is  the  festive  scene. 
As  when  rose  on  the  prophet's  gaze 

Fair  Canaan,  dressed  in  living  green. 

The  wreaths  in  loftiest  arches  tied, 

The  boughs  in  each  deep  window  spread, 

The  festoons  swung  from  side  to  side. 
The  columns  twined  and  garlanded  • 


*^*2.]  ST.    PETER'S.   AUBURN. 

The  leafy  cross  which  venturous  arm 
Has  dared  to  hang  the  chancel  o'er, 

Give  all  tlie  shady  lodge  a  charm 
That  never  met  the  eye  before. 

Thus,  verdant  as  a  sylvan  tent, 

Thine  old  age  puts  its  greenness  on; 
Thy  bowery  aisles  all  redolent 

With  goodliest  smell  of  Lebanon. 
How  fresh  the  branches  stand,  and  thick! 

With  what  a  dazzling  light,  and  clear, 
Like  Aaron's  golden  candlestick. 

Gleams  out  each  ancient  chandelier ! 

And  he  who  looks  above  the  crowd 

May  almost  see,  in  vision,  swim 
Beneath  the  cornice,  veiled  in  cloud, 

The  mystic  shapes  of  cherubim  ; 
Now,  listening  to  the  grateful  strain, 

Each  in  his  angle  seems  to  rest. 
With  twain  unfolded  wings,  and  twain 

Spread  crosswise  on  his  raptured  breast. 

And  now  a  joyous  echo  rings. 

As  if  the  whole  angelic  row. 
That  o'er  the  rood  loft  poise  their  wings, 

Their  loud,  uplifted  trumpets  blow ; 
And  quivering  now  through  wavy  trees, 

And  throbbing  breasts,  with  thrilling  sound' 
Of  solemn  pastoral  symphonies, 

A  glory  truly  shines  around. 

It  shines  on  robes  without  alloy, 

On  priestly  vestment,  pure  and  white, 
And  on  the  shepherd's  head  whose  joy 

It  is  to  watch  his  flock  by  night. 
It  brightest  shines  where  hearts  once  cold 

Are  kindling  with  the  truths  revealed. 
And,  like  the  faithful  swains  of  old, 

Beneath  their  gladdening  influence  yield. 

Thrice  blest  who  thus  the  night  prolong, 
Who  soar  on  each  inspiring  tune. 

And  emulate  the  "  shining  throng  " 
That  pass  away  to  heaven  too  soon  ' 

Thrice  blest,  who,  as  the  years  roll  by, 
More  fondly  treasure  up  the  word, 
39 


305 


306  MEMOm   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1843. 

And  God  their  Savior  glorify 

For  all  that  they  have  seen  and  heard  ! 

Though  many  a  friend  is  dead  and  gone, 

Though  many  a  sainted  face  we  miss, 
Long  may  thy  tuneful  peal  ring  on, 

That  calls,  dear  Church,  to  feasts  like  this  ! 
For  whence  could  joy  and  comfort  flow 

To  aching  hearts  that  bleed  for  them, 
But  for  His  grace,  whose  reign  below 

Began  this  night  in  Bethlehem  ? 


To  this  last  verse  was  appended,  as  a  note,  "  This  was  one  of  the 
dying  sentiments  of  a  late  young  servant  of  Christ,  eminent  alike  for 
his  early  endowments  of  grace  and  genius,  whose  '  sainted  face  we 
miss  '  among  the  baptized  children  of  Christ  Church,  Boston.  '  O, 
say  not  so,'  said  he,  in  his  last  days,  to  a  sorrowing  friend  wlio  spoke 
of  having  a  gloomy  Christmas  on  account  of  his  decease,  '  O,  say  not 
so,  but  think  what  we  should  all  be  but  for  the  birth  which  Christmas 
day  commemorates ! '  See  Bishop  Doane's  memoir  of  the  late 
Rev.  B.  D.  WiNSLOw." 

To  this  note  it  is  not  inappropriate  to  add  the  following  short 
extract  from  one  of  his  last  letters  of  the  year :  "  I  had  a  kind  let- 
ter from  Bishop  Doane  yesterday.  He  tells  me  that  Winslow's 
Remains  have  been  printed  at  Oxford,  and  that  he  has  a  copy  for 
me.  You  may  be  sure  that  I  shall  value  it  higlily.  1  have  many 
delightful  reminiscences  of  that  departed  saint,  which,  if  my  hfe  is 
spared,  shall  in  some  way  be  given  to  the  world."  Alas !  that  his 
life  ended  too  soon  —  that  the  work  was  never  done ! 


1843, 


In  one  of  the  earliest  letters  of  this  year  he  expresses  his  senti- 
ments on  two  popular  topics,  which  are  so  rational  and  temperate 
that  they  must  commend  themselves  to  the  respect  even  of  those 
who  may  differ  with  him  in  opinion.  Speaking  of  certain  voluntary 
associations  of  which  young  men  become  the  most  ardent  and  liberal 
supporters,  he  says,  "They  are  not  without  their  dangers,  at  least 
to  young  men  whose  principles  are  not  fixed,  not  only  in  the  expense 
of  time  and  money  which  they  involve,  but  in  the  facility  which  they 
afford  for  forming  other  associations  of  a  different  cfiaracter,  and  in 


1S43.]  ST.   PETER'S,   AUBURN.  307 

drawing  off  the  interest  from  domestic,  not  to  say  religious  duties. 
A  tithe  of  the  effort,  time,  and  money  which  are  required  to  give 
temporary  activity  and  vitality  to  ohjects  that  perish  in  the  using, 
woukl,  with  God's  blessing,  go  much  further  in  promoting  the  designs 
of  that  society,  of  which  Christ  is  the  almighty  Head  and  Founder, 
with  which  we  are  all  bound  to  be  identified,  as  we  value  our  soul's 
welfare,  in  time  as  well  as  eternity,  and  which  is  destined  to  survive 
'  the  wreck  of  matter  and  the  crush  of  worlds.'  But  I  must  not 
forget  that  I  am  not  writing  a  sermon,  though  I  feel  that  I  ought  to 
be."  Again,  with  reference  to  a  practice  which  was  then  becoming 
very  prevalent, — that  of  raising  money  for  charitable  purposes  by 
means  o(  fairs, — he  says,  "The  ladies  of  the  First  Presbyterian 
Church  got  up  a  fair  in  aid  of  a  destitute  church  at  the  west,  at 
which,  report  says,  dancing  was  among  the  entertainments  of  a  ques- 
tionable character.  Subsequently  a  sort  of  rival  ejiterprise  was  got 
up  for  the  relief  of  the  poor  of  the  village,  which  comes  off  to-night. 
Attempts  have  been  made  to  get  the  patronage  of  the  clergy  in 
behalf  of  the  object,  and,  with  the  exception  of  my  own,  have,  I  be- 
lieve, been  generally  successful.  I  consented  to  read  the  notice  last 
Sunday,  but  coupled  it  with  a  protest  against  this  mode  of  raising 
money  for  any  charitable  object.  Consistency  requires  me  to  main- 
tain this  ground,  which  has  not  been  suddenly  taken.  I  have  for 
years  entertained  the  most  conscientious  convictions  of  the  inconsist- 
ency of  these  schemes  of  extortion  with  all  Christian  principle, 
and  have  further  noticed  some  of  tlieir  mischievous  effects  upon 
those  who  have  most  actively  engaged  in  them.  I  shall  probably 
subject  myself  to  some  censure  on  this  account,  in  some  quarters  ; 
but  it  matters  little.  The  time  will  come  when  I  shall  stand  justified 
before  men,  as  I  trust  I  do  before  God,  in  this  matter." 

On  the  recurrence  of  St.  Paul's  day,  the  fourteenth  anniversary 
of  his  ordination,  he  throws  oft"  in  a  letter  to  his  father  the  following 
characteristic  passage  :  "  Alas  for  me  if  I  forget  the  memory  of  this 
day  fourteen  years  since  !  How  vividly  its  transactions  still  recur 
in  the  private  watches  of  the  night  !  How  profitably  should  they 
mingle  with  the  thoughts  of  this  consecrated  day  !  I  shall  try  to 
embody  the  reminiscences  they  awaken  in  some  fitting  shape.  Mean- 
while their  record  is  on  high." 

On  Sunday,  the  19th  of  February,  he  received  verbal  intelligence 
of  the  sudden  demise  of  the  Right  Rev.  Bishop  Griswold  ;  and  he 
thus  speaks  of  the  event  in  a  subsequent  letter  to  his  father  :  "  Un- 
expected as  was  the  intelligence  of  the  death  of  our  right  reverend 
father  and  friend,  the  presiding  bishop,  we  were  much  struck 
by  the  fact  that  it  should  have  first  been  communicated  to  Bishop 
De  Lancey  by  Governor  Seward,  under  this  roof,  where  the  mem- 
ories of  Bishop  Hobart's  fragrant  name  fill  the  house  as  with 
the  odors  of  precious   ointment,   and   amid  the   scenes  where  our 


308  MEMOm   OF  "SVILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1843. 

diocesan  received  his  episcopacy  at  the  hands  of  Bishop  Griswold. 
We  had  no  particulars  till  the  papers  of  the  next  day  arrived;  and 
yesterday  an  invaluable  correspondent  anticipated  every  inquiry 
which  we  could  possibly  have  made,  in  a  full  account  of  the  death 
and  funeral.  ...  I  mourn  tlie  loss  of  Bishop  Griswold  most 
sincerely.  Not  only  in  our  official  relations,  but  personally,  he  was 
always  paternal  and  tender  ;  and  I  shall  ever  dwell  with  a  sad  pleas- 
ure upon  those  hours  of  earthly  intercourse  never  to  be  renewed, 
but  to  be  superseded,  if  I  am  but  as  well  prepared  as  he  was  for 
death,  by  something  better  in  heaven." 

This  train   of  reflection  was  further  continued  in  a  letter  to  the 

correspondent  above  alluded  to.   Miss  H ,   under  date  of  Ash 

Wednesday,  March  1.  "Your  letter  touching  the  last  things  of 
the  dear  old  bishop  was  too  good,  as  I  thought,  for  me  alone ;  and 
I  made  some  extracts  for  the  Gospel  Messenger.  .  .  .  If  I 
were  to  begin  to  tell  of  the  emotions  which  that  event  has  awakened 
within  me,  I  should  hardly  know  where  to  stop.  It  is  most  grateful 
and  soothing  to  notice  the  universal  expression  of  veneration  and 
respect  which  the  announcement  of  his  death  has  called  forth  in  all 
quarters,  far  and  near.  Truly,  great  is  the  lamentation  that  has 
been  made  over  him  ;  and  I  sorrow  with  multitudes  at  the  thought 
that  I  shall  see  his  saintly  face  in  the  flesh  no  more.  May  we  all 
so  truly  profit  by  the  dispensation,  that  we  may  see  his  face  again 
in  glory,  and  may  it  be  our  renewed  desire  and  prayer,  that  we  may 
stir  up  the  gift  that  is  in  us,  by  the  laying  on  of  his  hands." 

The  following  verses  were  enclosed  in  a  letter  to  the  same  corre- 
spondent ;  not,  he  says,  for  publication,  and  they  have  probably 
never  appeared  in  print.  He  styles  them  poor  verses ;  but  of  this  the 
reader  must  judge. 


"HOUSES   OF   WORSHIP." 

Pray  tell  me,  is  yon  classic  dome. 

Hemmed  in  on  either  flank, 
Designed  for  God's,  or  Mammon's  home 

A  temple,  or  a  bank  ? 
And  tell  me  why,  to  human  eyes, 

No  outward  signs  declare 
If  it  be  house  of  merchandise, 

Or  holy  house  of  prayer. 


The  Hindoo  pagod's  towers  are  gay 
With  flaunting  banners  set; 

And  crescents  in  the  sunbeams  play 
On  mosque  and  minaret : 


^®*3-J  ST.    rETER'S,   AUBUIIN. 

As  by  the  synagogue  I  went, 

Some  months  ago,  I  saw 
Conspicuous  in  the  pediment 

The  tables  of  the  law. 

But  who  shall  say  of  this  unique 

With  what  it  has  to  do, 
Or  Catholic,  or  Heretic, 

Or  Pagan,  Turk,  or  Jew  ? 
Or  that  new  pantheistic  sect 

Whose  creeds  with  all  accord, 
And  worship,  with  a  like  respect, 

"  Jehovah,  Jove,  or  Lord  " ? 

O,  why  should  Christian  men  thus  fear 

To  lift  on  every  shrine 
The  symbol  to  their  souls  most  dear, 

Faith's  sure  and  steadfast  sign  ; 
That  swerves  not  when  the  vanes  are  whirled, 

The  sport  of  every  breeze. 
As  fitful  as  this  fickle  world, 

Or  fancy's  vagaries  ? 

But  look  on  all  the  neighboring  spires, 

And  see  it  written  plain. 
The  shape  which  most  the  town  admires 

Is,  like  its  name,  but  vain. 
The  Cross  is  still  a  stumbling  block, 

And  noisy  Gushfords  vaunt 
That  nothing  but  your  weathercock 

Is  purely  Protestant. 

There  were  some  reason  on  their  side, 

If  these  same  cocks  could  crow 
As  often  as  is  Christ  denied 

By  those  who  meet  below  ; 
Or  could  they  Avarn  the  wavering, 

By  passion  tossed  and  doubt, 
Of  their  unrest  whom  every  wind 

Of  doctrine  veers  about. 


At  this  time  some  plain  indications  were  apparent  that  another 
change  in  his  pastoral  relations  was  seriously  contemplated,  if  not 
desired.  This  did  not  arise  from  any  disaffection  between  his  peo- 
ple and  liimself.     In  the  month  of  February,  in  reply  to  a  sugges- 


309 


310  ilEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1843. 

tion  that  his  services  miglit  again  be  required  in  Boston,  he  says,  "I 
confess,  as  years  roll  by,  I  do  not  feel  any  less  like  a  stranger  and 
a  pilgrim  here,  and  cannot  but  hope,  in  the  course  of  Providence, 
that  we  shall  yet  be  brought  nearer  to  each  other.  And  yet  we 
should  be  the  most  ungrateful  of  beings  to  complain  of  the  line 
wherein  our  lot  is  cast,  or  be  otherwise  than  content  with  the  state 
wherein  we  are."  He  had  every  domestic  comfort,  and  the  affairs 
of  the  parish  were  in  a  promising  state ;  but  he  had  much  to  dis- 
hearten him.  He  perceived  an  increasing  tendency  to  indisposition. 
His  labors  were  frequently  interrupted  by  violent  attacks  of  head- 
ache, and,  during  the  winter,  he  suffered  from  time  to  time  from 
complaints  of  the  throat,  which  caused  much  anxiety  on  the  part  of 
himself  and  his  friends,  as  well  as  his  physician.  When,  therefore,  ad- 
vances began  to  be  made  from  the  former  scene  of  his  labors,  it  is 
not  strange  that  he  should  be  inclined  to  listen.  Accordingly  we 
find  in  several  letters  to  his  father  and  other  correspondents,  written 
in  April  and  during  the  Easter  season,  frequent  allusions  to  a 
possible  change.  Writing  to  Miss  C ,  with  reference  to  a  sug- 
gestion on  this  subject,  he  says,  "We  feel  more  and  more,  every 
day,  like  those  who  have  no  continuing  city  —  pilgrims  who  dwell 
in  tents,  liable  to  be  called  to  strike  them  at  any  time,  either  for 
another  world,  or  for  another  part  of  this."  But  in  a  letter  of  April 
11  to  his  father,  the  suggestion  takes  a  more  definite  shape  :  "My 
Boston  correspondents  write  me  that  the  city  mission  is  now  vacant, 
and  inquiring  whether,  in  case  it  were  offered  me  at  a  salary  of 
one  thousand  dollars,  and  with  a  pledge  to  erect  a  chapel  within  the 
ensuing  year,  I  would  be  disposed  to  entertain  it.  I  have  replied, 
that  our  aftairs  here  seemed  to  be  at  a  crisis."  He  here  mentions 
certain  contingencies,  under  which  he  should  feel  absolved  from  any 
obligation  to  remain  in  Auburn.  He  adds,  however,  "  It  would  be 
painful  indeed  to  contemplate  the  dissolution  of  my  connection  with 
this  parish  ;  and  I  have  every  reason  to  believe  that  the  pain  would 
be  mutual.  But  being  regarded  as  one  of  the  most  desirable  parishes 
in  the  diocese,  there  would  probably  be  little  difficulty  in  supplying 
it  to  their  minds  ;  and  though  not  perhaps  given  to  change,  they  are 
at  least  accustomed  to  it.  With  regard  to  the  situation  in  question, 
I  have  ever  regarded  it  as  one  of  the  most  enviable  in  the  city,  as 
bringing  him  who  is  faithful  to  his  duties  nearest  to  him  who  was 
anointed  to  preach  the  gospel  to  the  poor,  and  who  ever  delighted 
to  call  the  poor  his  brethren.  It  is  not  a  sphere  whose  occupations 
are  novel  or  imtried  by  me,  having  made  myself  familiar  during  my 
whole  ministry  with  its  homeliest  details,  and  become  intimate  with 
its  least  inviting  aspects.  Though  I  know  not  therefore  what  I 
ought  to  ask,  perhaps  I  know  the  necessity  of  being  bathed  in  the 
baptism  of  his  Spirit,  who  came,  not  to  be  ministered  unto,  but  to 
minister  ;  and  with  all   the  world  before  him  where  to  choose,  laid 


1843.]  ST.   PETER'S,  AUBURN.  311 

his  course  through  the  lowest  vale  of  humiliation.  May  God  give 
us  all  grace  to  follow  more  closely  his  holy  example.  Unless  I  am 
greatly  deceived  in  myself,  I  could  be  more  useful  in  that  situation 
than  almost  any  other ;  and  should  be  willing,  at  any  rate,  to  try 
the  experiment,  in  case  it  should  be  expedient  for  me  to  go  away. 
Whether  I  am  to  be  favored  with  this  ofter,  or  whether  the  events 
which  may  turn  up  here  may  induce  me  to  regard  more  favorably 
my  position,  a  few  days  will  now  determine  ;  and  in  the  mean  while, 
1  shall  be  thankful  for  your  godly  and  fatherly  judgment  upon  mat- 
ters as  they  strike  you."  It  is,  perhaps,  quite  superfluous  to  say 
tliat  his  father  not  only  admired  the  spirit  of  this  letter,  but  entirely 
approved  of  his  favoring  the  suggestions  of  his  Boston  corre- 
spondents. 

On  Easter  Monday,  writing  to  Miss  Callahan,  and  enclosing  the 
Elegiac  Stanzas  in  memory  of  her  nephew,  the  Rev.  Benjamin  D. 
WiNSLOW,  already  copied  on  page  234,  he  thus  briefly  alludes  to  the 
labors  of  love  and  charity  in  which  she  had  aided  him  during  his 
forjner  residence  in  Boston,  adding  a  remark  fully  expressive  of  the 
feeling  which  reigned  in  his  heart :  "Rest  assured  that  you  are  much 
and  often  in  my  grateful  thoughts,  as  I  muse  on  the  past,  both  in 
connection  with  him,  (Winslovv,)  and  especially  in  connection  with 
that  most  blessed  walk  of  pastoral  duty  which  has  carried  us  together 
to  minister  in  the  consecrated  abodes  of  Christian  poverty  and  dis- 
tress. If  it  were  God's  will,  with  all  the  world  before  me  where  to 
choose,  I  would  ask  to  enlist  in  the  same  service  again,  and  with 
such  helpers."     Again,  on  the  same  day,  in  a  letter  to  Miss  Clark, 

he  says,  "  Brother wrote  me  last  Monday,  to  ask  whether  I 

would  come  if  they  did  call  for  me,  and  bidding  me  write  by  return 
of  mail,  if  it  were  but  three  words.  I  did  so,  and  filled  my  sheet ; 
and  authorized  him,  if  he  wanted  any  thing  further,  to  obtain  a  sight 
of  my  epistle  to  you.  I  hope  I  have  acted  in  the  matter  with  a  due 
discretion,  and  not  said  too  much,  nor  any  thing  inconsistent  with  the 
trust  and  dependence  on  divine  direction,  which,  in  so  momentous  a 
matter,  should  be  our^r*-^  principle.  I  have  not  allowed  myself  from 
the  outset  to  suppose  that  the  question  was  yet  at  our  disposal  or 
that  of  our  friends  ;  knowing,  by  experience,  that  it  is  not  in  man  that 
walketh  to  direct  his  steps.  Though  I  have  endeavored  to  treat  the 
suggestion  in  the  spirit  of  simple  sincerity  and  good  faith,  I  shall  not, 
I  trust,  give  way  to  any  feeling  or  any  expression  of  disappointment, 
however  it  may  be  finally  settled."  He  adds,  on  hearing  that  Bishop 
Eastburn  had  remarked  to  one  of  his  parishioners  who  had  recently 
been  in  Boston  that  he  was  desirous  of  leaving  Auburn,  "  I  con- 
fess I  do  not  like  altogether  the  bishop's  way  of  stating  the  matter ; 
never  caring  to  be  classed  with  those  of  whom  it  was  said,  I  have 
not  sent  them,  and  yet  they  ran  ;  or  being  desirous  of  coming  to 
Boston,  except  upon  the  supposition  that  my  friends  desired  me  to 
come." 


312  MEMOIR   OF   WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1843. 

Again,  towards  the  close  of  the  week,  lie  writes  somewhat  more 
at  large,  to  his  friend  Couthouy  and  to  his  father,  and  in  language 
of  a  similar  import.  The  latter  is  more  strictly  confined  to  the  sub- 
ject. "  Though  it  is  Friday  in  the  paschal  week,  the  earth  is  still 
very  unclean.  Nature  is  far  from  being  advanced  in  the  fairest 
colors  of  the  spring,  to  welcome  the  triumph  of  the  great  Head  of 
the  Church  over  the  grave  :  no  vernal  zephyrs,  no  green  resur- 
rection, to  harmonize  with  the  services  of  the  chief  festival.  The 
year  is  a  month,  at  least,  in  arrears,  as  compared  with  the  last,  when 
the  roads  were  settled  in  March,  and  I  filled  my  vase  with  early  wild 
flowers  before  this  time.  The  advancement,  however,  will  probably 
be  more  rapid  in  consequence,  and  there  will  be  little  difference  in 
the  progress  of  vegetation  at  the  opening  of  summer.  .  .  .  The 
churchyard  is  at  present  quite  a  scene  of  unwonted  activity,  being 
full  of  men  and  boys  trimming  the  old  locust  trees  and  setting  out 
new  ones.  ...  I  have  heard  nothing  further  from  our  friends 
at  the  east  since  I  wrote  last.  I  am  glad  that  your  views  on  the 
subject  correspond  with  my  own.  If  it  were  God's  will,  on  my  wife's 
account  as  well  as  my  own,  it  would  require  no  self-denial  to  follow 
it  most  readily  ;  and  there  are  very  many  who  would  join  us  in 
adopting  the  spirit  of  the  one  hundred  twenty-sixth  Psalm  :  '  When 
the  Lord  turned  again  the  captivity  of  Zion,  then  were  we  like  them 
that  dream.^  It  is  not  unlikely  to  be  but  a  pleasant  dream,  though, 
after  all.  There  is  a  great  diversity  of  interests  represented  in  the 
board  of  managers,  and  I  am  not  at  all  sanguine  that  they  would  all 
unite  in  my  nomination.  I  hope  I  am  not  unduly  anxious  about  the 
matter,  nor  indeed  any  thing  else ;  and  would  fain  take  no  needless 
thought  for  the  morrow." 

The  doubts  here  suggested  of  the  result  of  this  movement 
proved  to  be  but  too  well  founded.  Still,  while  the  matter  was  yet  in 
suspense,  he  continued  to  speak  of  it,  in  his  letters  to  his  friends,  in 
the  same  frank  and  familiar  manner,  as  if  no  such  doubts  existed. 
On  the  2d  of  May  he  writes  to  his  father,  "  Nothing  further  of  any 
moment  from  Boston.  The  delay  makes  me  think  that  there  is  oppo- 
sition to  my  nomination.  This  might  have  been  expected.  It  dimin- 
ishes the  probability  of  a  removal  thither  at  present.  I  will  not  go 
into  a  divided  house,  when  I  can  remain  here  by  unanimous  con- 
sent and  something  more.  I  am  anxious  however  to  have  the  ques- 
tion  decided,  and  at  once,  and   before  I  write  again  I  trust  it  will 

be."      And  he  writes  also  much  in  the  same  manner  to  Miss  H : 

"  I  have  not  been  sanguine  with  regard  to  the  result  of  this  move- 
ment ;  and  if  I  had  been,  the  silence  at  the  east  I  should  have  re- 
garded as  ominous.  I  can  easily  conceive  of  a  great  diversity  of 
interests,  directly  and  indirectly,  being  arrayed  against  me.  .  .  . 
My  removal  at  this  time  would,  I  am  inclined  to  think,  be  an  entire 
surprise  to  the  people,  nor  do  I  see  any  indication  in  their  present 


1843.]  ST.   PETER'S,   AUBURN.  313 

deportment  that  my  time  has  come.  Let  it  only  be  as  seemeth  good 
to  God  ;  and  let  us  not,  in  our  impatience,  hasten  his  work  to  our 
hurt.  In  due  subordination  to  him,  I  repose  myself  in  this  matter 
with  implicit  confidence  in  the  hands  of  my  Boston  friends." 

But,  aware  as  he  was  of  the  conflicting  interests  which  might 
sway  the  several  members  of  the  board  of  managers  of  the  city 
mission,  and  uncertain  as  he  considered  the  result,  he  was  not  pre- 
pared to  see  precisely  on  what  grounds  his  election  might  be  opposed, 
nor  how  for  mere  party  feelings  might  be  brought  to  bear  against 
him.  But  he  was  not  kept  long  in  suspense.  The  result  was  soon 
made  known  to  him,  as  well  as  the  means  by  which  it  was  effected  ; 
and  it  would  not  be  consistent  with  the  plan  proposed  in  bringing 
out  this  work,  to  suppress,  from  motives  of  false  delicacy,  any  fact 
or  circumstance  which  might  be  deemed  essential  to  the  exhibition 
of  his  life  or  the  illustration  of  his  character.  The  circumstances 
were  faithfully  detailed  to  him,  and  by  him  communicated  to  his 
father  in  a  letter  of  the  16th  of  May.  "  Tidings  reached  us,  at  last, 
on  Saturday  evening.  A  meeting  had  been  held  the  week  previous, 
and  a  committee  appointed  to  nominate,  a  majority  of  whom,  after 
consultation  vi'ith  the  clergy,  nominated  me.  Before  acting  on  the 
nomination,  the  meeting  was  adjourned  till  last  Thursday.  On  open- 
ing the  subject,  Dr.  V.  objected,  (disclaiming  at  the  same  time  any 
personal  objections,)  simply  on  the  ground  that  it  would  be  '  the 
rending  of  Christ  Church.'  Driven  from  that  position,  the  real  mo- 
tive was  developed  —  the  candidate  was  not  an  evangelical  preacher, 
could  not  touch  the  sinner's  heart,  &c.,  &c.  This  called  forth  a 
handsome  vindication  from  brother  Watson,  of  Trinity  Church  ;  but 
there  was  much  excitement  and  confusion,  and  the  bishop  was 
obliged  to  call  to  order.  The  result,  however,  was,  to  defer  the 
choice  for  three  months.  This,  of  course,  puts  the  question  at  rest 
so  far  as  I  am  concerned,  and  much  to  my  relief;  for  as  time  has 
passed  since  the  subject  was  first  opened  to  me,  I  should  have  been 
sorry  to  be  obliged  to  decide  on  its  acceptance.  With  regard  to  Dr. 
V.'s  imputation,  I  should  prefer  to  enjoy  his  good  opinion  with 
regard  to  my  fidelity  as  a  preacher  of  the  cross,  especially  because 
I  have  no  reason  to  believe  that  there  is  any  real  difference  between 
his  views  of  vital  and  experimental  religion  and  my  own.  At  the 
same  time,  I  ought  to  be  willing,  however  severe  the  trial,  to  suffer 
a  shame  and  reproach  which  evangelists  {par  eminence)  have 
been  so  free  to  cast  on  the  reputation  of  men,  both  dead  and  living, 
of  far  higher  claims  to  completeness  in  Christ  than  even  Dr.  V. 
himself.  Even  the  piety  of  our  late  sainted  father  in  God,  Bishop 
Gkiswold,  did  not  go  undoubted  in  certain  quarters  ;  and  one  of 
the  editors  of  the  Recorder,  who  was  the  first  to  garnish  the  sepul- 
chre of  the  venerable  White,  was  accustomed  to  the  inquiry  from 
one  of  his  confederates,  whether  the  old  bishop  was  converted  yet  I 
40 


314  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1843. 

Bishop  Griswold,  I  am  sure,  if  living,  would  have  given  me  a  very 
different  character  ;  and  so,  I  verily  believe,  would  many  others  who 
know  me  better.  It  is,  after  all,  as  St.  Paul  truly  says,  to  be  ac- 
counted a  very  little  thing  to  be  tried  by  man's  judgment,  seeing  he 
that  judgeth  us  is  the  Lord.  The  project  in  question  has  brought 
out  many  grateful  testimonies  from  friends  who  are  neither  feeble 
nor  few.  I  think  it  probable  that  it  will  lead  to  some  organization 
among  them  with  reference  to  me,  in  God's  good  time,  and  in  a 
way  that  will  be  perhaps  more  inviting  in  all  its  aspects."  Yes, 
in  this  half-prophetic  suggestion  he  was  not  mistaken  ;  for  in  the 
holy  providence  of  God  he  was  allowed  the  opportunity  to  "  live 
down,"  on  the  very  spot  where  this  wrong  was  done  him,, the  un- 
generous imputation  of  his  brother  of  St.  Paul's;  and  what  is  still 
better,  that  brother,  who  had  permitted  himself  thus  to  assail  him, 
was  spared  to  bear  testimony,  with  his  own  lips,  to  the  injustice  and 
groundlessness  of  the  imputation. 

After  the  settlement  of  this  matter,  he  confined  his  correspondence 
more  particularly  to  domestic  and  pastoral  affairs  ;  and  few  notes 
are  found  of  general  interest  to  record.  He  frequently  speaks,  in 
language  perfectly  natural  to  a  Christian  parent,  of  the  growth  and 
progress  of  his  little  daughter  ;  and  on  Whit-Monday,  June  5,  he 
thus  writes  to  his  father  of  an  important  stage  in  her  existence  : 
"  In  addition  to  its  usual  stirring  associations,  the  great  feast  of  Pen- 
tecost was  the  more  interesting  yesterday  from  its  being  the  first 
birthday  in  our  child's  eventful  life  ;  and  it  did  not  pass  without  a 
petition  for  spiritual  mercies  in  her  behalf,  and  grace  to  hve  the  rest 
of  her  life  according  to  iits  baptismal  beginning."  He  adds,  "  With 
regard  to  our  daughter's  proficiencies,  it  would  not  be  worth  while 
for  me  to  begin  to  write.  I  leave  that  topic  to  my  wife,  who  gener- 
ally exhausts  her  paper-and-pen  eloquence  upon  it,  when  writing  to 
her  sister  or  some  such  willing  listener." 

In  a  subsequent  letter,  June  19,  after  speaking  of  his  partial  re- 
covery from  a  severe  cold  and  hoarseness,  which  had  unfitted  him  for 
public  duty,  he  adds,  "  I  have  engaged  to  officiate  at  Skeneateles 
on  the  glorious  fourth,  in  brother  Clark's  church,  in  a  kind  of  sei'- 
vice,  which  he  has  been  obliged,  as  it  were,  to  resort  to,  to  keep 
his  juveniles  from  injurious  associations.  I  have  consented  to  do 
so  rather  as  a  choice  of  evils,  as  the  only  alternative  was  to  act  as 
chaplain  at  a  sort  of  military  parade  here,  and  to  which  I  have  a 
most  decided  and  increasing  repugnance." 

His  next  letter  was  dated  at  Skeneateles,  July  8,  and  though  it  re- 
lates, in  part,  to  personal  matters,  almost  every  word  of  it  may  be 
transcribed.  "  Here  we  are,  wife,  baby,  nurse,  and  all,  spending  a 
few  days  very  delightfidly  at  brother  Patterson's  villa,  on  the  marge 
of  this  enchanting  lake.  I  came  over  alone  at  the  beginning  of  the 
week,  to  assist  brother  Clark   at    his  Sunday  school  celebration  on 


1843.]  ST,  PETER'S,   AUBURN.  315 

the  fourth.  It  seemed  providential  that  it  was  so  ordered ;  for  on 
the  night  of  the  third  a  letter  was  received,  informing  him  that  his 
brother-in-law,  Rev.  Mr.  Lewis,  the  excellent  rector  of  the  church 
in  Mobile,  was  very  low  in  New  York ;  and  Mrs.  Lewis,  who,  with 
her  children,  were  spending  a  few  weeks  here,  set  off  on  the  morning 
of  the  fourth.  Mr.  Clark  accompanied  them.  It  was  well  that  I 
was  here  to  relieve  him  of  all  concern  for  the  service.  .  .  .  To 
give  Mr.  Clark  more  entire  command  of  his  time  in  his  absence,  it 
seemed  still  more  providential  that  I  was  able  to  insure  him  my  as- 
sistance to-morrow  —  the  j)ainters  and  whitevvashers  having  taken 
possession  of  St.  Peter's,  and  making  it  quite  doubtful  whether  we 
get  admission  for  yet  another  Sunday  after  the  next.  Under  these 
circumstances,  we  concluded  to  avail  ourselves  of  the  opportunity  to 
make  our  long-promised  visit  to  brother  Patterson,  whose  com- 
plaints need  the  solace  of  congenial  company  ;  and  accordingly  came 
over,  under  his  escort,  on  Thursday.  The  baby,  whose  teeth  have 
been  troubling  her  considerably,  seems  much  improved  by  the  change 
of  air  ;  and  that,  together  with  the  beautiful  scenery,  and,  more  than 
all,  the  kind  and  gentle  attentions  of  our  endeared  friends  here,  is 
working  much,  I  trust,  for  my  wife's  benefit.  For  myself,  who  am 
wonderfully  well,  thank  God,  it  is  a  most  luxurious  enjoyment  to  be 
here.  To  a  poetical  temperament,  the  scenery  of  the  lake  is  most 
captivating ;  and  the  opposite  and  distant  shore,  under  the  magical 
and  varying  aspects  which  every  change  in  the  atmosphere  and  play 
of  the  light  is  constantly  producing,  seems  to  belong  to  some  un- 
earthly and  supernatural  region." 

After  his  return  from  this  delightful  retreat,  he  found  his  time  and 
attention  much  engrossed  in  preparations  for  the  annual  session  of 
the  diocesan  convention,  which  was  to  meet  in  St.  Peter's  Church  on 
the  16th  of  August.  But  this  was  not  all.  "  In  addition,"  he  says, 
"  to  the  cares  which  devolve  upon  me,  with  reference  to  the  approach- 
ing convention,  I  am  taken  captive  and  entangled  in  my  capacity  of 
trustee  of  the  Auburn  Academy,  whose  examinations  I  have  been 
as  entirely  engaged  in  conducting,  for  the  last  two  days,  as  if  I  were 
the  only  member  who  had  any  leisure  !  It  is  not  yet  quite  done,  the 
exhibition  taking  place  at  the  meeting  house,  where  I  have  to  preside, 
pray,  and  report,  this  afternoon."  The  repairs  of  the  church  were 
now  completed  ;  and  an  addition  to  the  parsonage,  which  had  been  in 
progress  for  some  weeks,  was  also  in  a  state  of  forwardness.  Writ- 
ing on  the  25th  of  .July,  he  says,  "  We  reopened  our  church  hist 
Sunday  under  favorable  auspices,  and  it  presents  a  very  satisfactory 
appearance ;  and  the  new  part  of  the  house,  we  trust,  will  be  just 
about  tenantable  by  the  time  it  is  wanted  for  the  convention." 

His  letters  of  the  month  of  August,  to  his  father  and  other  cor- 
respondents, are  chiefly  occupied  with  notices  of  the  convention 
and  other  ecclesiastical  affairs,  from  which  a  single  passage  may  be 


316  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1843. 

extracted.  '«  The  Lord  gave  the  word,  saith  the  Psalmist ;  great  was 
the  company  of  the  preachers.  So  it  was  here  last  week.  The  con- 
vention was  very  full,  and,  the  bishop  said,  the  best  that  had  yet  been 
held  ill  the  diocese.  .  .  .  There  was  much  anxiety  on  the  part 
of  the  diocesan  lest  there  should  be  divisions  among  us ;  but  he 
was  wonderfully  relieved  to  find  that  all,  from  the  commencement  to 
the  close,  was  tuned  to  harmony,  — 

'  From  harmony  to  harmony, 
Through  all  the  compass  of  the  notes  it  ran.' " 

From  his  somewhat  hurried  and  sketchy  letters  of  September,  here 
are  one  or  two  brief  extracts.  He  acknowledges  some  pleasant  visits 
from  his  elder  and  younger  brother  and  other  friends ;  and  though 
he  records  in  his  journal  an  almost  daily  recurrence  of  headache 
and  other  symptoms  of  indisposition,  he  appears  to  have  had  much 
enjoyment  in  the  society  of  his  friends.  Speaking  of  the  new  addi- 
tion to  the  parsonage,  which,  it  seems,  included  a  small  chapel  for 
Sunday  school  purposes  and  for  special  lectures,  he  says,  "  Our 
chapel  is  now  completed,  and  was  used  for  the  Sunday  school  yes- 
terday. On  Thursday,  St.  Matthew's,  we  open  it  with  proper  ser- 
vices. It  is  all  paid  for,  and  the  parish  is  in  good  spirits.  They 
are  thirsting  to  be  instructed  in  our  distinctive  principles  ;  and  I  shall 
make  it  my  duty  to  meet  the  demand."  With  reference  to  the 
Boston  city  mission,  he  says,  "  What  you  hear  from  Boston  corre- 
sponds with  my  information.  The  city  mission  question  was  settled 
a  week  ago.  I  have  just  learned  the  result,  but  nothing  more.  Our 
excellent  brother  Wells  was  elected,  and  a  better  choice  could  not 
be  made.  My  especial  friends  would  be  better  satisfied  with  him  than 
any  other,  save  one,  who  was  not  to  be  had." 

Writing  to  his  father,  October  11,  he  says,  "I  have  just  returned 
from  Moravia,  whither  I  accompanied  the  bishop  on  Monday,  to  be 
present  at  the  consecration  of  the  new  church,  that  arises,  phoenix- 
like, from  the  ashes  of  the  old,  destroyed  by  fire  last  year.  The 
ride  was  a  delightful  one  in  such  company,  along  the  eastern  shore 
of  Lake  Owasco,  from  one  end  to  the  other,  making  the  whole  dis- 
tance about  eighteen  miles.  The  scenery,  including  this  interesting 
sheet  of  water,  with  its  high  and  diversified  bank,  partly  under  cul- 
tivation, and  green  with  the  winter  wheat,  and  partly  clothed  with 
forests  in  their  tinted  autumn  foliage,  is  picturesque  beyond  descrip- 
tion. Moravia  is  a  dear  little  place  —  snugly  nestled  in  a  sheltered 
nook,  formed  by  a  continuation  of  the  same  hills  in  which  the  lake 
itself  is  cradled ;  and  I  almost  envied  the  aged  pastor  of  the  dale 
his  rural  cure.  A  kind,  simple-hearted,  intelligent  body  of  Church- 
men adorn  their  profession ;  and  the  services  made  it  a  day  much 
to  be  remembered  by  its  endearing  associations." 


1843.]  ST.    PETER'S,    AUBURN.  317 

A  few  extracts  are  subjoined  from  a  lono;  and  pleasant  correspond- 
ence witli  some  of  liis  female  friends   in  Boston,  Misses  C and 

H ,  October  27.      "  I  was  at   Skeiieateles,  on  Tuesday,  tbrou<yh 

horrible  mire  and  clay  and  many  a  slougb  of  despond;  but  I  reached 
the  wicket  gate  of  the  evangelist's  house  at  last,  and  in  season  to 
take  leave  of  our  dear  brother  Patterson,  who  was  about  to  set  out 
to  ])ass  the  winter  in  journeying  through  the  south.  He  has  greatly 
im|)roved  during  the  summer,  but  our  northern  cold  is  too  rough  for 
him.  It  is  sad  to  part  with  such  friends,  for  there  are  none  herea- 
bouts that  are  like  minded.  ...  I  have  purchased  of  him  a 
choice  little  instnunent  for  the  use  of  our  chapel,  of  a  true  church- 
like tone,  as  David's  harp  of  solemn  sound  ;  and  the  chords  which 
his  own  skill  and  taste  have  drawn  from  it  in  past  days,  so  rich  and 
ravishing,  will  ever  haunt  my  memory.  It  is  a  sore  trial  to  think 
how  many  tedious  months  must  roll  away  before  we  can  hope  to  see 
the  faces  and  the  places  that  we  so  much  love  ;  and  I  trust  we  shall 
at  least  draw  closer  to  each  other  by  letter  than  some  of  us  have 
done  of  late."  He  thus  speaks  of  the  city  mission  as  he  had  be- 
fore written  to  his  father :  "  My  friends  and  I  ought  to  be  satisfied 
with  the  result  of  the  city  mission  election.  Mr.  Wells  is,  beyond 
comparison,  the  very  best  man  for  that  work  whom  I  have  ever 
known,  faithful  and  true.  I  am  fain  to  believe  that  I  have  lost  noth- 
ing by.  that  movement  in  the  estimation  of  those  whose  opinion  I 
most  value  ;  and  it  has  not  been  without  its  use,  in  enabling  me  to 
determine  who  my  real  friends  are."  To  another  correspondent 
he  remarks  on  the  satne  subject,  "It  is  indeed  painful  to  find  opposi- 
tion, and  on  such  grounds,  in  quarters  where  I  had  least  reason  to 
expect  it,  and  from  those  who  have  dealt  friendly  with  me  and  pro- 
fessed great  regard.  Whatever  may  be  their  data,  I  am  sure  that 
there  are  those  '  without,'  of  whom  my  ministry  has,  in  past  times, 
had  a  better  report.  The  Lord  judge  between  me  and  them  !  "  But 
before  proceeding  further,  one  more  passage  may  be  transcribed  from 
his  letter  to  Miss  C :  "I  need  not  tell  you  how  all  that  con- 
cerns the  old  church  is  as  dear  as  ever.  My  wife  has  recently  been 
washing  Miss  Clapp's  painting  of  the  interior  :  I  have  covered  the 
frame  with  green  paper,  to  protect  it  from  the  flies  and  the  dust,  and 
have  hung  a  green  veil  before  it.  Through  this  it  appears  as  it  did 
in  the  solemn  and  pensive  gloom  of  twilight  ;  and  I  make  it,  as 
it  were,  my  Kebla,  in  many  an  hour  of  mental  devotion  and  con- 
templative solitude.  How  many  who  knelt  with  us  in  holy  com- 
munion at  those  rails  are  now,  we  trust,  in  the  temple  above,  and 
rejoicing  in  the  eternal  communion  of  saints  !  A  thought  of  bless- 
ing, this,  for  our  darkest  hours." 

To  his  excellent  friend  and  brother,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Watson,  of 
Trinity  Church,  in  tlie  same  letter  from  which  a  short  extract  lias 
already  been  made,  he  writes,  "  Our  local  affairs  are  prosperous,  and 


318  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1843. 

all  my  relations,  parochial  and  diocesan,  are  pleasant  and  happy, 
beyond  my  ministerial  experience  at  the  east,  as  1  feel  that  they  are 
beyond  my  deserts.  If  our  family  friends  were  but  closer  to  us, 
there  would  be  little  to  ask.  I  hope  we  shall  draw  nearer  together 
by  letter  than  we  have  done  of  late,  my  dear  friend,  whom  I  address 
as  one  of  many  to  whom  I  would  breathe  the  same  wish.  The  pros- 
pect of  a  long  and  tedious  winter,  with  one  day  of  sunshine  to  six 
of  cloud  and  darkness,  is  at  times  rather  gloomy  and  oppressive,  and 
we  long  for  the  old  familiar  associations  of  the  city." 

November  6,  to  his  father  :  "  We  are  in  a  state  of  great  quietude 
here.  1  am  going  on  at  the  rate  of  three  sermons  a  week,  includ- 
ing the  lecture  delivered  on  Wednesday  evenings  at  '  our  Ladies' 
Chapel.'  I  endeavor  to  preach  truth  with  great  plainness  of  speech, 
and  it  seems  to  be  received  in  good  part.  He  who  giveth  the 
increase,  however,  doth  not  vouchsafe  such  visible  fruits  as  our  impa- 
tience often  demands.  .  .  .  Winter  seems  to  have  set  in  pre- 
maturely. But  we  hope  there  may  be  some  interval  of  mellow,  hazy, 
Indian  summer  before  we  turn  the  December  cape  and  enter  the 
house  of  Capricorn.  .  .  .  To-morrow,  if  I  see  it,  makes  me 
thirty-nine  ;  but,  alas !  how  little  it  brings  of  spiritual  maturity ! 
♦  O  for  a  closer  walk  with  God.'  " 

November  9,  to  his  friend  Couthouy  :  "  I  am  sorry  to  hear  that 
my  little  namesake  has  not  been  as  healthy  and  vigorous  this  sum- 
mer as  his  first  infancy  promised  ;  but  I  trust  he  will  improve,  when 
the  frost  of  winter  has  done  its  work  of  purification  upon  your 
wretched  atmosphere,  (New  York.)  I  have  no  doubt,  however, 
that  the  breathing  of  his  native  air  would  have  a  happier  effect  upon 
him,  and  you  all,  than  any  thing  on  this  side  of  heaven.  It  may  be 
that  we  shall  all  be  allowed  some  day  to  breathe  it  together.  If  not, 
may  it  be  in  some  still  better  place." 

St  Andrew's  day,  to  his  father  :  "  November  takes  leave  of  us 
very  much  in  the  old  English  style,  according  to  the  writers  on  the 
seasons,  when  cold,  drizzle,  and  gloom  lead  spirits  of  morjbid  sensi- 
tiveness to  make  way  with  themselves.  This  is  certainly  a  region 
which  has  a  climate  peculiarly  its  own,  and  not  perhaps  the  worst 
thing  about  it  either.  We  stand  it  pretty  well,  all  things  con- 
sidered, —  are  a  little  homesick  now  and  then,  —  longing  much  after 
you  all,  —  but  with  too  many  comforts  and  blessings  of  every  sort, 
in  our  condition,  to  allow  us  to  complain,  even  if  we  were  more 
unthankful  and  evil  than  I  trust  we  are.  I  have  good  hope  that,  by 
the  grace  of  God,  we  m.ay  see  something  of  an  awakening  Advent 
among  us  as  the  outward  world  grows  less  attractive." 

With  a  few  extracts  from  his  December  correspondence,  the 
record  of  the  year  must  close.  December  15,  to  Miss  Harris  : 
'•  What  we  chiefly  miss  here,  next  to  the  old  familiar  friends  and 
the  intimacies  with  the  persons  and   places,  which  we  still  renew  in 


1843.]  ST.   PETER'S,   AUBURN.  319 

dreams,  waking-  and  sleeping,  are  the  great  libraries,  public  and  pri- 
vate, which  make  Boston  a  privileged  place.  There  are  many  de- 
partments of  study,  professional  and  general,  which  I  tmuld  find 
leisure  to  pursue,  if  we  had  at  hand  the  great  works  of  reference, 
without  which  acquirement  can  never  be  thorough.  For  lack  of 
these,  we  go  over  what  we  have  got  and  forgot;  and  of  some  of 
these,  I  am  sure  I  can  say,  the  old  is  better.  Heber's  life  has 
afforded  us  increased  delight ;  and  I  hope  I  may  say  that  we  have 
contemplated  his  picture  with  such  reverential  love,  and  grown  so 
familiar  with  its  lines,  as  Southey  says,  that  we  feel  as  if  we  might 
humbly  hope  to  know  him,  if  permitted  to  see  his  face  in  heaven. 
Often,  dear  friend,  has  that  book  made  us  think  and  talk 
about  those  we  have  left ;  and  I  tiiouglit  I  could  understand  some- 
thing of  his  feeling  when  he  wrote  such  passages  as  this:  'On  Sun- 
days the  recollection  has  been  most  forcibly  brought  to  my  mind,  by 
the  use  which  on  those  days  I  have  sometimes  made  of  my  old  ser- 
mons, slightly  altered,  and  by  the  contrast  of  the  circumstances  un- 
der which  I  now  preach  them,  with  the  venerable  walls  and  well- 
known  and  friendly  faces  which  surrounded  me  when  I  last  turned 
over  the  same  leaves.  Yet  here  also  I  have  an  attentive  audience, 
and  the  op])ortunities  of  doing  good  are  great.'  On  whatever  other 
topic  1  began  with  you,  I  should  be  sure  to  end  in  this.  The  imagery 
gathers  round  me  as  I  write  —  I  see  the  old  spire  in  my  mind's 
eye,  and  the  chime  as  audible  to  mine  inward  ear. 

'  I  see  from  tenements  around 

Still  comes  the  pensive  train, 
Who  in  that  church  have  blessings  found 

That  fill  their  homes  again. 
For  faith  and  peace,  and  mighty  love, 

That  from  the  Godhead  flow, 
Show  them  the  life  of  heaven  above 

Springs  from  the  life  below.' " 

December  18,  writing  to  his  father,  he  gives  this  sad  description 
of  the  inhospitable  climate  in  which  he  was  dwelling  :  "  For  the 
last  six  weeks  we  have  had  little  else  than  perpetual  gloom,  unen- 
Hvened  altogether,  I  verily  believe,  with  more  than  forty-eight  hours 
of  sunshine,  and  making  these  short  days  of  the  winter  solstice  still 
shorter.  I  cannot  but  wish  that  I  was  less  disaffected  with  Western 
New  York,  for  I  believe  it  to  be  a  field  of  great  usefulness  for  those 
who  are  at  home  here." 

But  in  his  last  letter  of  the  year,  dated  on  the  feast  of  St.  .Tohn 
the  Evangelist,  he  writes  in  a  more  cheerful  strain  :  "  Our  Christ- 
mas services,  dear  father,  have  passed,  and  left  a  redolence  upon  my 
mind  which   I    hope  will    long  continue.      The    decorations  of   the 


320  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1844. 

church  are  simple  and  natural,  being  quietly  put  up  on  Saturday 
afternoon ;  and  as  long  as  human  nature  is  what  it  is,  must  ever  be 
grateful  to  the  Christian  mind,  as  fit  emblems  of  its  undying  hopes. 
And  it  is  pleasant  and  dutiful,  as  Nesvraan  says,  to  use  the  same  ma- 
terials which  the  prophets  used  to  typify  the  eternity  of  Messiah's 
reign,  in  symbolizing  the  fulfilment  of  their  predictions.  I  prepared 
myself  to  preach  three  times  on  Sunday,  and  again  on  Christmas. 
.  .  .  Though  the  weather  continues  to  be  very,  very  dull,  there 
is  a  more  encouraging  state  of  things,  spiritually  considered,  than  at 
some  previous  periods ;  and  it  is  our  hope  and  prayer  that  the 
Spirit  will  stir  up  the  hearts  of  our  careless  churchmen,  and  make 
their  light  shine  so  brightly  that  we  shall  less  miss  the  light  of  tlie 
sun."  T 


1844. 


An  eventful  year  —  a  year  during  which  he  again  changed  his 
residence  and  his  pastoral  relations,  and  returned,  not  to  the  same 
parish,  but  to  the  same  scenes,  and  among  the  same  people,  where 
he  had  spent  the  first  eleven  years  of  his  ministry.  It  is  unnecessary 
now  to  speak  particularly  of  this  change,  or  of  the  principal  causes 
which  led  to  it,  as  these  will  be  sufficiently  developed  in  the  course 
of  the  narrative.  It  may  be  proper  to  remark,  however,  that  the 
rigors  of  the  climate,  the  gloomy  aspects  of  the  winter  season,  and 
the  precarious  state  of  his  own  health  and  that  of  his  family,  con- 
tributed not  a  little  to  weaken  the  bonds  of  his  attachment  to  a  place, 
where,  but  for  these  circumstances,  he  might  in  all  probability  have 
spent,  most  happily,  all  the  remaining  d.iys  of  his  ministry. 

On  New  Year's  day  he  received  a  highly-valued  present  from  the 
Ladies'  Benevolent  Association,  of  which  he  thus  speaks  in  a  letter 
to  his  father :  "  I  believe  I  did  not  mention  to  you,  in  my  last,  the 
receipt  of  a  rich  and  beautiful  engraving  of  Bishop  White,  executed 
from  a  painting  of  Inman's  by  an  English  artist,  with  a  frame  to 
suit ;  being  a  gift  of  the  season  from  some  of  our  honorable  women, 
worthy  of  all  grateful  acknowledgment.  It  is,  indeed,  a  rare  and  glo- 
rious picture.  The  bishop  is  represented  at  full  length  and  in  com- 
plete canonicals,  with  silver  buckles  in  his  shoes,  sitting  in  an  antique 
chair  by  the  side  of  an  altar,  'for  high  communion  meetly  spread,' 
in  some  venerable  Gothic  cathedral.  The  figure  and  all  the  accom- 
paniments beautifidly  harmonize.  Some  lines  which  I  wrote  on  first 
seeing  bishop  White,  at  the  opening  of  the  convention   in   1832,* 

*  For  these  Uues,  see  page  126. 


1844.]  ST.   PETER'S,   AUBURN.  321 

seemed  to  describe  the  scene  so  well,  that  I  accompanied  my  acknowl- 
edgments with  a  copy." 

He  commences  his  next  lettei-  with  an  alarm  from  the  parsonage 
on  account  of  the  severe  sickness  of  his  little  daughter  ;  but  provi- 
dentially, before  closing  the  letter,  he  is  enabled  to  announce  that 
her  relief  has  been  as  prompt  as  the  attack  was  sudden.  In  the  same 
letter  he  thus  speaks  of  a  recent  family  affliction,  in  the  death  of 
Dr.  Thomas  O'Hara  Croswell,  of  Catskill  :  "It  adds  to  the  gloom 
and  depression  of  this  week,  that  we  have  by  this  mail  received  the 
tidings  of  our  dear  uncle's  departure,  in  Catskill.  They  have  of 
course  disturbed  me,  and,  like  all  of  you,  I  shall  be  anxious  to  hear 
the  particulars.  I  have  often  said  this  winter  that  I  would  see  him 
again,  God  willing,  before  he  died ;  and  that  if  I  ever  left  my  con- 
finement here,  I  should  not  return  without  going  to  Catskill.  A 
wise  Providence  has  ordered  otherwise.  I  hope,  however,  that  we 
may  be  permitted  to  embrace  in  that  world  where  there  is  no  dis- 
ease, old  age,  sorrow,  sickness,  or  separation." 

Such  an  extract  as  the  following,  from  a  letter  of  January  22, 
serves  to  show  how  his  feelings  were  affected  by  the  peculiarities  of 
his  location  :  "I  do  not  grow  any  less  impatient  —  or  rather,  it 
would  be  more  Christian  to  say,  less  unwilling  —  to  entertain  the 
thought  of  withdrawing  from  this  field  of  duty  to  one  within  easier 
reach  of  '  home ' ;  since  the  severity  of  the  cold  has,  for  the  last 
three  days,  made  our  house  uncomfortable,  almost  beyond  the 
power  of  our  fuel  to  mitigate  it,  and  occasioning  concern  for  our 
Uttle  one  which  is  at  times  almost  too  absorbing.  My  chief  objec- 
tion—  for  there  are  minor  ones  —  is,  not  that  the  post  is  isolated, 
and  the  incumbent  buried  alive,  .  .  .  but  it  is  that  I  am  cut 
off  from  all  access  to  the  friends,  domestic  and  clerical,  with  whom 
the  flower  of  my  life  passed  so  happily,  and  can  only  visit  them  at 
long  intervals,  and  at  the  expense  of  nearly  a  third  of  my  income." 

The  following  incidental  remarks,  in  a  letter  of  February  13,  to 

his  friend  Miss  C ,  are  worth  transcribing,  if  it   were   only  to 

give  one  more  proof  of  the  prevailing  sentiments  of  his  heart  with 
regard  to  pastoral  duty.  Speaking  of  his  frequent  calls  to  the 
abodes  of  sickness,  poverty,  and  affliction,  he  says,  "  Here  I  am 
made  to  realize,  every  week,  that  it  is  my  own  fault  if  the  vocation 
of  a  man  of  prayer,  and  a  son  of  consolation,  do  not  cause  the 
abodes  of  the  diseased,  through  the  influences  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  to 
be  indeed  '  bright,  with  something  of  celestial  light.'  I  confess  this 
part  of  my  duty  grows  more  delightful  to  me  from  its  double 
eflect — as  I  minister  not  only  to  those  who  are  before  me,  but  live 
over  again,  in  spirit,  the  scenes  in  which  I  so  long  lived,  and  moved, 
and  had  my  being,  in  a  land  that  is  very  far  oflf,  in  one  sense,  and 
very  near  in  another.  Doubt  not  that  there  is  much  in  these  rela- 
tions to  keep  you  all  in  mind.  In  the  conscious  glory  which  I  have 
41 


322  MEMOIR    OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1844. 

seen  shed,  as  it  were,  round  '  cold  huts,  where  poor  men  lie,'  as  we 
united  in  the  iioly  ordinances  of  our  religion,  I  have  been  convinced 
that  I  did  not  greatly  mistake  my  vocation  in  supposing  that  the 
wishes  and  desires  of  my  will  were  to  preach  the  gospel  to  the 
sons  and  daughters  of  poverty  and  tribulation,  in  the  capacity  of 
city  missionary.  I  covet  no  higher  earthly  calling,  no  deeper 
aspii'ation." 

The  following  production  is  transcribed  in  the  same  form  in  which 
it  was  transmitted  to  his  father  and  some  other  correspondents, 
not  omitting  the  apology  with  which  he  saw  fit  to  introduce  it  : 
"  The  editor  of  the  '  Evergreen,'  (a  monthly  periodical  then  pub- 
lished at  New  Haven,)  having  requested  me  to  contribute  something 
for  his  work,  he  is  quite  welcome  to  what  I  have  here  written.  1 
do  not  wish  my  name  to  be  connected  with  it,  or  any  other  signa- 
ture. '  For  if,  as  I  do  hope,  the  vein  be  good,'  the  world  will  find 
it  out  quite  soon  enough  ;  and  if  it  be  a  failure,  let  it  perish  anony- 
mously."    And  to  his  friend  Miss  H ,  to  whom   he  also  sent  a 

copy,  he  says,  "  I  always  see  reason  to  regret  it  whenever  I  am 
tempted  to  depart  from  simple  ballad  rhymes,  whose  freedom  from 
pretension  saves  them  from  criticism,  and  carries  the  popular  feel- 
ing in  their  favor.  Such  is  human  nature,  however,  to  be  always 
beset  with  a  morbid  desire  to  do  something  different  from  what  we 
can  do  most  easily  and  acceptably.  Imperfect  as  is  the  execution, 
however,  I  would  not  wish  the  sentiment  changed  in  any  particular." 


BISHOP  GRISWOLD'S  MEMORIAL. 


"  As  Elisha  witnessed  the  translation  of  Elijah,  bo  we  coTild  hardly  hope 
any  thing  better  for  his  successor  than  that  tlie  mantle  of  this  our  father 
in  Israel  might  rest  upon  him."  W.  C. 

"I  was  present,  with  several  of  the  clergy,  about  ten  minutes  after  his 
death,  which,  as  you  know,  took  place  in  Bishop  Easteukk's  study.  It  was 
a  scene  long  to  be  remembered.  There  lay  the  good  old  man,  extended  at 
full  length  on  the  floor,  more  majestic  and  commanding  of  presence  in 
death  than  I  had  ever  beheld  him  in  life.  His  silver  hairs  spread  a  kind 
of  halo  round  his  head,  and  his  blue  cloak  wrapped  gracefully  round  his 
limbs,  with  his  arms  crossed  on  his  bosom,  he  looked  like  a  Christian 
'  warrior  taking  his  rest.'    Peace  to  his  ashes !  " 

Letter  from  Rev.  J.  L.  Watsoit. 


The  funeral  year  has  through  its  circle  run, 

And  Memory's  spells  the  solemn  scene  renew, 
When,  like  Elijah,  thy  good  mission  done, 
Leaving  thy  mantle  with  thy  chosen  one,* 


*  "The  desire  of  his  soul  liad  just  been  accomplished.  He  had  seen  the 
council  of  his  diocese,  which  had  been  assembled  at  his  own  earnest  summons, 
meeting  in  harmonious  brotherhood,  and  appointing  his  official  successor. 
And  when  all  the  preparatory  measures  had  been  completed,  he  had,  in  con.- 


1844.]  ST.   PETER'S,   AUBURN.  323 

Thy  sainted  spirit  to  its  source  withdrew ; 
And  Reverence  still,  m  many  a  prophet's  son, 

To  Bethel  comes,  and  stands  afar  to  view, 
And  prays  that  he  on  whom  thy  titles  rest 
May  be  both  with  thy  robe  and  with  thy  spirit  blest. 


Methinks  I  see  thee,  as  I  oft  have  seen 
In  other  days,  so  chastened  and  resigned, 

Serving  the  Lord,  as  with  a  prophet's  mien, 
Or  Paul's,  in  all  humility  of  mind. 

I  see  thy  trials  on  thy  faded  cheek, 

But  thine  endurance  in  thy  brow  serene, 

Thy  look  elate,  but  yet  subdued  and  meek, 
Thy  seraph  smile,  and  sweet,  unconscious  air 
That  threw  a  glory  round  thine  apostolic  chair. 

Long  had  I  loved  thee  with  a  filial  heart, 

And  mourn  thee  with  a  deep  and  sorrowing  love  — 
Thrice  happy,  might  I  hope  to  bear  a  part 

In  the  same  mansions  of  the  house  above- 
May  I  be  with  thee,  where  thy  lot  shall  be. 

And  grow  more  like  thee,  in  thy  simple  guise, 
Thy  unaffected  truth's  sincerity. 

And  all  that  made  so  lovely  in  our  eyes 

The  quiet,  childlike  heart,  which  God  doth  highly  prize. 

Father,  whose  life  was  thus  devoid  of  pride, 

Thus  lowly  wise,  on  winning  souls  intent. 
Let  not  thy  ransomed  spirit  now  be  tried, 
Among  the  myriads  of  the  glorified. 

By  any  pledge  of  love  on  thee  misspent. 

Thou  wouldst  not  ask  a  costly  monument, 
Nor  joy  to  see  the  storied  rock  assume 

Thy  living  shape  ;  or  sculptured  figures,  bent 
In  mimic  sorrow  o'er  a  garnished  tomb, 
Enshrine  thy  place  of  rest  amid  the  minster's  gloom. 


pany  with,  some  of  his  brethren  in  office,  and  in  the  presence  of  his  assembled 
clergy,  performed  the  last  finishing  and  apostolic  ceremonial.  And  now, 
having  been  permitted  to  behold  all  things  done,  he  walks  to  and  fro,  for  a 
few  weeks,  in  the  midst  of  us,  and  then,  in  the  fulness  of  years,  he  passes 
instantly  away,  and  enters  into  an  everlasting  rest  from  all  liis  labors ;  and  to 
invest  -with  stUl  further  interest  and  solemnity  the  closing  moments  of  his 
career,  it  is  so  ordered,  in  the  course  of  Providence,  that  his  spirit  shall 
escape  from  its  earthly  prison  house  beneath  the  very  roof  of  him  who  had 
been  destined  to  stand  in  his  room  and  continue  his  labors."  —  Bishop  East- 
btjrn's  Sermoii  at  the  interment  of  Bishop  Gkiswold. 


324  MEMOIR   OF   WILLIAM    CROSWELL.  [1844. 

But  rather,  as  on  earth  thou  oft  hast  prayed, 

Wouldst  pray,  that  all  who  loved  thee,  far  or  nigh,  — 

Priest,  Levite,  elder,  matron,  youth,  and  maid, 

On  whom  thy  hands  in  solemn  rites  were  laid,  — 
Might  grow  in  every  grace  as  years  went  by, 

And,  stirring  up  the  gift  through  thee  conveyed, 
Have  their  blest  record  with  thine  own  on  high ; 

And  walking  in  the  steps  which  thou  hast  trod, 

Be  thy  memorial  dear,  alike  to  man  and  God. 
February  15,  1844,  ANxrvERSAHY  of  Bishop  Geis-wold's  death. 

The  following  passage  occurs,  in  a  letter  of  March  4,  to  a  very 
intimate  friend,  to  whom  he  had  just  been  speaking  of  the  severe 
losses  which  liis  parish  had  sustained,  by  the  death  and  removal  of 
some  of  its  most  prominent  and  useful  members,  and  of  the  tendency 
to  indisposition  in  himself  and  family  :  "  After  Easter,  we  hope  to 
proceed  easterly ;  nor  should  we  greatly  regret  it,  if  it  were  clearly 
manifested  that  the  Lord  had  need  of  me  there.  I  have  ceased  to 
be  fastidious  about  my  sphere  of  labor.  Any  where,  citj  or  country, 
where  I  might  seem  fitted  for  usefulness,  and  where  my  father's  house 
and  the  scenes  of  my  childhood  were  accessible  without  great  diffi- 
culty, would  fulfil  all  the  desires  of  my  heart." 

He  expresses  similar  sentiments  in  a  subsequent  letter  to  his 
father,  adding,  "  I  flatter  myself  that,  with  my  ministerial  expe- 
rience and  large  variety  of  sermons,  I  am  not  without  some  apti- 
tude for  usefulness  almost  any  where."  He  speaks  at  the  same  time 
very  affectionately  of  his  parish,  and  only  regrets  that  the  appear- 
ances of  spiritual  growth  are  not  more  promising ;  and  after  alluding 
to  some  very  humble  positions  in  the  neighborhood  of  his  early 
home,  he  says,  "  You  may  be  amused  at  all  this  castle  building ; 
but  you  cannot  say  that  it  is  on  an  extravagant  plan ;  and  I  hope  it 
is  not  otherwise  than  innocent,  and  will  do  no  harm." 

The  remaining  letters  of  the  month  relate  chiefly  to  plans  and 
suggestions  with  regard  to  an  anticipated  eastern  visit,  (vhich  seems 
to  have  been  deemed  essential  to  the  restoration  of  his  wife's  health. 
"  I  never  saw  her  (he  says)  quite  so  prostrated  with  nervous  debility, 
having  been  hardly  able  to  sit  up  the  whole  day,  for  the  last  three 
days.  Nothing,  we  are  satisfied,  will  be  so  likely  to  prove  beneficial 
as  to  change  the  scene  for  the  better.  I  flatter  myself  that  there  is 
no  impediment  to  her  speedy  restoration  wliich  this  will  not  be  suf- 
ficient to  remove." 

The  Easter  services  being  brought  to  a  close,  he  found  it  expedi- 
ent to  make  immediate  arrangements  for  the  proposed  journey.  He 
had  designed  to  defer  it  to  a  more  favorable  season.  But  he  says, 
"I  have  reversed  the  decision  so  recently  made,  and  yield  to  the 
apparent  necessity  of  translating  my  wife  at  once  to  the  restorative 


1844.]  ST.  PETER'S,  AUBURN.  325 

influences  of  her  native  air.  I  think  there  is  nothing  in  her  case 
hut  extreme  debility  and  nervous  prostration,  which  the  journey  and 
the  visit  will  he  sufficient  to  remove,  if  they  are  not  delayed."  Ac- 
cordingly they  left  Auburn  on  the  17th  of  April,  and,  taking  Utica 
and  Albany  on  their  way,  arrived  at  Boston  on  the  19th,  the  mother 
and  child  seeming  no  worse  for  the  ride.  Allowing  himself  an  ab- 
Bence  from  his  parish  of  only  a  few  days,  including  two  Sundays, 
he  divided  his  time  very  pleasantly  among  his  friends  in  Boston, 
Hartford,  and  New  Haven,  and  returned  again  to  his  parish  on  the 
8th  of  May ;  leaving  his  wife  and  child  to  prolong  their  visit  in 
Boston  for  an  indefinite  period. 

On  his  arrival  at  his  parish,  his  attention  was  immediately  en- 
grossed by  his  preparations  for  the  bishop's  visitation,  which  took 
place  on  Sunday,  the  12th  of  May.  The  class  presented  for  contir- 
mation  consisted  of  only  six  persons.  "  The  number  (he  says,  in 
a  letter  to  his  father)  might  have  been  larger,  had  I  had  more  time; 
but  all  was  done  that  could  be  done  in  the  interval ;  and  brother 
Patterson  had  fully  supplied  my  lack  in  the  way  of  pulpit  duty." 
During  his  absence,  and  for  a  few  days  after  his  return,  the  parson- 
age had  been  occupied  by  Mr.  Patterson  and  family ;  and  he 
speaks  in  terms  of  strong  regret  at  the  idea  of  parting  with  them. 
"  I  expect  (he  says)  to  renew  some  of  the  trials  of  my  bachelorship 
My  godson,  George  Herbert  Patterson,  Mr.  P.'s  only  child,  is 
a  fine  little  boy,  just  beginning  to  interest  himself  in  the  Church.  I 
have  given  him,  as  a  parting  gift,  a  copy  of  the  Prayer  Book,  with 
those  memorable  words  of  his  great  namesake  — '  O,  give  me  the 
prayers  of  my  mother  the  Church  ;  no  other  prayers  can  equal 
these.'  This  is,  after  all,  the  only  presentation  volume,  next  to  the 
Bible,  that  I  take  satisfaction  in  bestowing  ;  knowing  that  there  indeed 
is  spirit,  and  there  is  life.  As  I  notice  the  happy  effects  of  such 
tokens  in  enlisting  the  interest  of  a  child  in  these  services,  I  won- 
der what  substitute  those  people  have  who  despise  this  method  of 
training  up  the  young  in  the  way  they  should  go."  After  speaking 
of  the  good  reports  of  the  mother  and  child  from  Boston,  he  adds, 
with  a  feeling  which  every  parent  will  know  how  to  appreciate, 
"  The  void  and  loneliness  occasioned  by  their  absence,  the  deserted 
nursery,  the  empty  crib,  the  unoccupied  high  chair,  the  silence  of 
the  places  that  but  recently  echoed  to  the  child's  merry  laugh,  sadly 
recall  the  time  when  the  child  of  hope  and  prayers  went  to  heaven, 
and  they  who  were  lovely  in  their  lives,  in  their  death  were  not  di- 
vided." 

We  here  introduce  some  lines  written  on  his  Uttle  daughter  Man/s 
second  Birthday,  June  4,  and  sent  to  his  friends  at  home,  and  to  Miss 

H ,   of   Boston,  with    introductory  explanations,  which    give    to 

them  a  pecuhar  and  touching  interest.      Miss  H had  just   been 

bereaved   of  a  beloved  relation ;  and  these  are  the  strains  of  con- 


326  IklEMOIR  OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1844. 

doleuce  in  which  he  addresses  her :  "  Appreciating  the  character 
of  your  dear  aunt  Mary,  as  approaching  very  nearly  to  the  per- 
fection of  spiritual  beauty,  I  can  enter  in  some  measure  into  the 
feelings  of  those  who  will  mourn  for  her  many  days.  To  realize 
that  you  will  no  more  see  on  earth  that  well-beloved  face,  that  has 
been  associated  from  infancy  with  all  dear  domestic  delights  —  sym- 
pathizing in  all  your  joys  and  sorrows — into  whose  faithful  ear  you 
could  breathe  all  the  workings  of  your  aftections  —  and  upon  whose 
tried  Christian  experience  you  could  safely  rely  for  spiritual  guidance 
—  this  is  indeed  bereavement.  But  you  are  familiar,  also,  with  the 
considerations  by  which  grief  is  to  be  soothed  and  moderated.  '  For,' 
says  holy  Bishop  Taylor,  '  if  the  holy  dead  did  die  in  the  Lord,  it 
is  an  ill  expression  of  aflection  to  weep  uncomfortably  at  a  change 
that  hath  carried  her  to  .a  state  of  high  felicity.  Something  is  to  be 
given  to  nature  and  the  honor  of  the  deceased  friend ;  for  that  man 
is  esteemed  miserable  for  whom  no  friend  or  relation  sheds  a  tear 
or  pays  a  solemn  sigh.  I  desire  to  die  a  dry  death  ;  but  I  am  not 
desirous  to  have  a  dry  funeral  :  some  flowers  sprinkled  on  my  grave 
would  be  well  and  comely,  and  a  soft  shower  to  turn  those  flowers 
into  a  springing  memory.'  Some  such  humble  flowers  I  would  fain 
sprinkle  on  aunt  Mary's  grave,  knowing  that  soft  showers  will  not 
be  wanting  to  turn  them  into  a  springing  memory.  May  her  happy 
and  holy  life  and  death  be  sanctified  in  the  hearts  of  all  who  knew 
her,  and  lead  those  who  survive  by  the  new  and  living  way  opened 
in  the  blood  of  Jesus  to  the  same  triumph  of  grace  over  nature. 
In  musing  on  the  birth  of  another  Mary,  I  could  not  but  blend  the 
thoughts  of  the  race  that  was  finished  with  that  which  was  begun. 
To  those  who  understand  the  allusion  they  may  have  an  interest, 
which  they  could  not  claim  on  other  grounds,  and  which  will  be  with 
you,  I  trust,  a  sufl&cieut  apology  for  filling  the  rest  of  the  sheet  with 
them." 


0  God,  who  on  our  household 
Thus  far  hast  fondly  smiled, 

1  thank  thee  for  thy  choicest  boon- 
My  precious,  only  child. 

And  pray  thee  that  the  favor 
Which  has  so  richly  blest 

Her  sunny  days  of  infancy. 
May  shine  on  all  the  rest. 

I  have  not  asked  for  beauty, 
Fair  cheek,  or  golden  tress  ; 

Though  all  that  is  within  ine  melts 
At  woman's  loveliness. 


1844.J  ST.   PETER'S,   AUBURN.  337 

I  have  not  asked  for  riches, 

Nor  even  wealth  of  mind  ; 
Though  doting  on  intelligence, 

Pure,  lofty,  and  refined. 

Those  better  gifts  I  covet. 

Which  thou  dost  bid  us  seek — 
A  soul  serene,  affectionate. 

And  resolute,  yet  meek. 
The  meetness  of  the  children 

Who  shared  our  Lord's  caress. 
And  whose  surpassing  excellence 

Is  early  holiness. 

O,  might  she  thus  resemble 

That  late  departed  saint, 
Who,  worthy  of  Madonna's  name, 

I  may  not  dare  to  paint ! 
Or  catch  the  falling  glories 

Throned  on  that  aged  brow. 
Which,  in  the  multitude  of  peace, 

Has  passed  from  us  but  now. 

Fain  would  I  ask,  as  o'er  me 

That  raptured  image  swims, 
All  ready  with  the  seraph  choirs 

To  join  the  heavenly  hymns. 
That  her  '  unearthly  comforts,' 

And  looks,  '  divinely  mild,' 
Might,  by  some  secret  sympathy. 

Inspire  my  gracious  child. 

While  thus,  dear  Lord,  my  musings 

Have  blent,  in  tender  ties. 
The  child,  and  aged  childlike  friend 

Whom  tears  shall  canonize, 
May  the  hope  that  both  are  living 

And  rejoicing  in  thy  smile, 
Cheer  the  lonely  dwelling-places 

Which  each  has  left  a  while. 


In  letters  to  his  friends,  written  soon  after  his  return  from  his  eastern 
journey,  there  are  several  allusions  to  the  state  of  the  church  in  Bos- 
ton, and  the  immediate  vicinity,  jilainly  foreshadowing  the  course 
which  he  afterwards  tliought  it  his  duty  to  pursue.  The  following,  to 
his  excellent  brother  Dr.  Strong,  June  24,  is  an  instance :   "  One 


^8  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1844. 

cheering  symptom  in  the  midst  of  much  that  was  of  ill  omen  for  the 
Church,  was  the  many  instaiiees  of  enlightened  and  devoted  attach- 
ment to  sound  principles,  which  had  developed  themselves  among 
the  laity  since  my  last  visit,  and  promising  something  for  the  exten- 
sion of  the  Church  ahout  Boston,  analogous  to  the  influence  of 
'Young  England'  upon  '  Old.'  God  grant  that  such  instances  may 
be  a  thousand  fold  increased  and  multiplied." 

The  month  of  July  passed  away  chiefly  in  solitude,  and  few  inci- 
dents occurred  to  break  in  upon  his  regular  course  of  pastoral 
duties.  In  his  letters  to  his  father,  he  often  speaks  of  his  loneliness, 
as  a  fond  husband  and  parent  might  be  expected  to  speak ;  and 
seems  impatient  for  the  time  to  come  when  he  may  again  visit  his 
eastern  friends.  Under  these  circumstances,  he  was  well  prepared  to 
enjoy  a  visit  which  he  had  rather  hoped  for  than  expected.  He  thus 
writes,  under  date  of  "  Buffalo,  Sunday  evening,  July  28 :  This  is 
a  season  of  wonders.  Even  as  I  intimated,  1  have  been  carried 
away  captive  by  my  next  friend  and  more  than  brother,  (Bishop 
DoANE,)  and  I  steal  a  moment  to  apprise  you  of  the  fact,  before  I 
leave  the  confines  of  the  diocese.  The  bishop,  with  his  wife  and 
children,  came  to  Auburn  on  Thursday,  and  passed  the  day,  much 
to  our  mutual  delight.  Next  morning  they  set  out  for  the  Falls  ; 
and  I  found  the  inducements  to  accompany  them  quite  irresistible, 
especially  as  I  thought  it  might  be  my  only  chance.  We  stopped 
at  Geneva  a  few  hours  ;  reached  Rochester  at  dark,  and  passed  the 
night.  On  Saturday  we  came  on  to  this  place.  The  bishop  and 
party  are  provided  for  at  Rev.  Dr.  Shelton's,  and  I  am  domesti- 
cated with  our  friend  and  brother  of  '  auld  lang  syne,'  Rev.  Ed- 
ward Ingersoll.  .  .  .  The  bishop  threatens  to  take  me  across 
the  line  to  Toronto ;  though  it  is  quite  doubtful  at  present  whether 
I  accompany  him  any  farther." 

Whatever  may  have  been  his  desire  on  this  subject,  he  was  con- 
strained, it  seems,  to  relinquish  it,  and  return  to  his  post.  This 
account  of  his  journey  is  from  his  next  letter,  Auburn,  August  2 : 
"  I  have  returned  safe  and  sound,  after  a  week  of  the  pleasantest 
journeying  that  I  have  yet  had.  I  hasten  to  take  up  my  brief  line 
of  communication  where  I  dropped  it  at  Buffalo.  We  dropped 
down  the  noble  Niagara  River,  under  the  British  flag,  on  Monday 
morning,  crossing  from  Schlosser  to  Chippewa,  two  miles  above  the 
Falls,  and  with  nothing  between  to  save  us,  if  any  thing  should 
befall  the  steamboat.  We  all  agreed  that  it  was  very  presump- 
tuous after  we  had  safely  landed,  although  it  is  done  every  day ; 
and  it  is  considered  very  important  to  get  the  first  view  from  the 
Canada  side.  I  will  not  be  so  adventurous  as  to  attempt  a  descrip- 
tion, either  of  the  Falls  or  the  sensations  they  create.  Enough  to 
say,  that  some  of  the  party  burst  into  tears,  and  wept  like  children. 
After  spending  part  of  two  days  on  one  side  and  the  other,  I  felt 


1844.]  ST.  PETER'S,  AUBURN.  329 

that  there  was  nothing  beyond  which  I  wislied  to  see  —  that  I  had 
reached  the  cUmax.  I  took  my  leave  of  tlie  party  on  Tuesday 
afternoon.  The  bishop  and  family  were  to  go  next  day  to  Lewis- 
ton,  Toronto,  and  thence  to  Montreal  and  Quebec ;  but  I  fear  that 
the  rest  of  their  route  will  seem  tame  and  insipid.  Niagara  is  a 
scene  to  finish  such  an  expedition  withal."  In  a  letter  of  the  same 
date  to  Miss  Callahan,  sister  of  Mrs.  Doane,  he  gives  a  similar, 
though  more  particular,  account  of  this  interview  and  journey  with 
the  family ;  and  on  the  8th,  writing  to  the  late  Mrs.  Sumner,  he 
remarks,  "  It  has  been  a  dull  summer  to  me,  with  the  exception 
of  the  day  that  Bishop  Doane  and  suite  spent  here,  and  the  week  in 
which  I  accompanied  him,  for  lack  of  a  chaplain,  to  the  Great 
Falls."  At  this  date  he  was  still  suffering  from  severe  illness ;  but 
he  expresses  a  hope  that  his  next  will  be  written  "  with  a  steadier 
hand.  At  present,"  he  says,  "  it  is  less  so  than  my  head ;  and 
there  have  been  days  when  I  could  not  write  at  all." 

He  was  now  contemplating  his  eastern  journey ;  but  being 
detained  for  a  few  days,  he  attended  the  consecration  of  the  new 
church  at  Geneva,  as  well  as  the  last  meeting  of  the  standing  com- 
mittee before  the  convention.  After  this,  having  secured  a  supply 
for  his  pidpit  during  his  absence,  he  took  his  departure  on  the  20th. 
"  I  have  made  provision,"  he  says,  "  for  three  Sundays,  which,  if 
we  return  at  all,  as  I  suppose  we  shall,  must  suffice." 

The  following  passage  from  a  letter  of  the  16th,  though  relating 
to  a  private  and  family  concern,  is  nevertheless  so  characteristic  of 
his  feelings  and  views  on  a  very  interesting  subject,  that  there  is  a 
pleasure  in  transcribing  it.  His  cousin,  the  wife  of  the  Rev.  Henry 
Fitch,  had  been  bereaved  of  a  little  daughter  whose  name  was 
Jane.  On  the  birth  of  another  daughter,  he  presented  his  congrat- 
ulations through  his  father,  adding  this  touching  injunction:  "I 
hope  she  will  call  her  little  one  Mary.  At  least,  that  she  will  not 
be  so  unchristian  or  inconsiderate  as  to  give  it  the  name  and  the 
place  of  the  beloved  departed,  who  is  still  as  really  existing,  as 
part  of  the  family,  as  if  she  were  but  absent  on  a  visit. 


"  'Twould  seem  to  blot  her  from  her  place. 

Though  she,  to  fill  one  bitter  cup, 
Hath  died,  we  must  not  thus  efface 

Her  memory.     No  !  we  reckon  up 
The  lost,  who  slumber  in  their  grave, 

As  ours.     We  cite  their  several  names. 
Which  He,  who  now  hath  taken,  gave. 

And  love  as  well  the  absent  claims 
As  this  new  born.     'Twould  give  me  pain 
To  hear  her  call  another  Jane." 
42 


330  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM    C110S\^T:LL.  [1844. 

He  next  dates  from  Boston,  where  he  arrived,  with  his  little 
family,  on  the  21st,  and  met  with  a  reception  peculiarly  gratifying 
to  his  feelings.  So  warm  and  cordial  were  the  greetings  of  liis  old 
friends  and  former  parishioners,  —  so  familiar  were  the  scenes  and 
the  faces  round  him, — that  it  seemed  difficult,  for  a  time,  to  realize 
that  he  had  ever  been  absent  from  them.  The  whole  four  years 
appeared  to  have  passed  away  like  a  dream.  On  Sunday,  the  1st 
of  September,  he  was  induced  to  officiate  in  his  old  church ;  and 
here,  as  an  evidence  of  his  welcome,  and  as  if  to  revive  the  recol- 
lection of  former  times,  six  children  were  presented  to  receive  bap- 
tism at  his  hands.  He  had  not  been  long  in  Boston  before  he  re- 
ceived convincing  proof  of  the  estimation  and  affection  in  which  he 
was  held ;  for  measures  were  immediately  taken  for  the  organiza- 
tion of  a  new  parish,  with  the  hope  that  his  services  might  be 
secured  as  rector.  "  Strong  wishes,"  he  writes,  "  have  been  ex- 
pressed in  many  quarters  to  have  me  fixed  in  some  position  of  use- 
fulness here."  It  will  be  seen,  as  the  narrative  proceeds,  that  meas- 
ures were  speedily  taken  for  the  accomplishment  of  this  object. 

While  absent  with  his  family  on  a  visit  to  New  Haven,  he  was 
kept  apprised,  by  his  attentive  correspondent  in  Boston,  of  the  prog- 
ress and  prospects  of  the  enterprise  above  alluded  to.  On  the  12th 
of  September,  he  was  informed  of  the  result  of  a  meeting  held  for 
the  purpose  of  making  arrangements  for  the  organization  of  a  new 
parish,  with  such  assurances  of  his  being  called  and  provided  for  as 
rector,  that  he  was  no  longer  left  in  doubt  as  to  the  success  of  the 
undertaking.  To  the  Rev.  J.  L.  Watson,  with  whom  he  had  always 
maintained  the  most  friendly  relations,  he  thus  writes  on  the  16th: 
"  In  writing  to  our  excellent  friend  Dr.  Shattuck,  this  morning,  I 
informed  him  that  we  should  return  to  Auburn  this  week,  and  there 
await  any  communication  from  the  new  parish.  On  further  reflec- 
tion, it  seems  best  that  we  should  remain  here  until  the  question  is 
officially  decided,  and  so  spare  my  wife  and  little  one  the  fatigue  and 
expense  of  a  journey  of  seven  hundred  miles  and  more,  back  and  forth. 
Will  you  please  to  inform  my  correspondent  of  this  change  in  our 
purpose,  and  to  request  that,  whatever  is  intended  for  us,  may  be 
sent  to  this  place  1  Upon  the  receipt  of  the  evidence  of  my  r'  • -tion 
as  rector,  I  will  forward  my  resignation  to  Auburn  without  uclay, 
and  be  prepared  to  enter  on  my  new  field  of  duty  at  the  solemn 
season  of  which  the  name  of  the  parish  will  long,  I  trust,  continue 
to  remind  the  crooked  and  perverse  generations  —  preparing  the  way 
of  the  Lord,  and  making  straight  his  paths.  I  think  it  not  improba- 
ble that  the  parish  of  St.  Peter's  would  desire  me  to  remain  until  they 
could  make  some  provision  for  a  successor.  This  they  will  find  but 
little  difficulty  in  doing,  as  the  parish  is  justly  regarded  as  one  of  the 
most  desirable  in  the  diocese.  If  local  attachments,  intimacies,  and 
kindred  ties  did  not  draw  elsewhere,  as  in  my  case,  there  are  few  of 


1844.]  ST.   PETER'S,   AUBURN.  331 

our  western  villages  that  would  present  more  inducements.  I  have 
experienced  great  kindness  at  their  hands,  and  cannot  think  of  leav- 
ing them  witliont  much  regret,  and  not  a  '  few  natural  tears.'  But 
while  I  shrink  from  contemplating  the  trying  scene  that  awaits  me 
there,  I  confess  to  you,  that  the  prospect  of  resuming  my  ministry 
once  more  in  my  old  and  almost  native  haunts  fills  my  mind  with 
a  thousand  pleasant  images  of  the  future,  which  I  am  too  sanguine, 
perhaps,  in  expecting  to  find  renewals  of  the  past ;  but  as  they  are 
all  connected  with  the  satisfactory  discharge  of  duties  in  which  I 
have  had  some  experience,  I  trust  it  is  not  sinful  to  indulge  them. 
Favored  as  I  shall  be  with  the  cooperation  of  so  many  of  the  flower 
of  the  Church,  I  shall  feel  that  it  will  be,  in  a  great  measure,  my 
own  fault  if  I  do  not  realize  some  of  them.  The  thought  of  being 
restored  to  the  society  and  intercouse  of  those  with  whom  I  so  long 
took  sweet  counsel  together  and  walked  to  the  house  of  God  in 
company,  is  a  luxury  beyond  the  deserts  of  such  a  miserable  sinner." 

Again,  on  the  18th,  writing  to  Miss  H ,  he  says,  "  I  anticipate 

a  tryuig  scene  in  leaving  Auburn,  for  there  has  been  much  to  attach 
me  to  that  cure,  both  to  persons  and  places  :  but  '  we  trust  that  we 
have  a  good  conscience,'  and  have  the  sanction  and  approval  of 
those  upon  whose  judgment  we  have  been  most  accustomed  to  rely. 
I  confess  that  the  footing  upon  which  this  business  seems 
likely  to  be  placed,  humanly  speaking,  inspires  me  with  great  hope 
of  success.  At  any  rate,  it  will  be  commenced  with  advantages 
which  will  throw  a  great  weight  of  responsibility  upon  me  if  it  should 
fail.  I  feel  a  deep  consciousness  how  entirely  our  strength  is  weak- 
ness, and  that,  more  than  ever,  I  shall  be  with  you  in  weakness  and 
in  fear,  and  in  much  trembhng.  Still,  we  know  that  there  is  a 
mighty  and  mysterious  power,  through  which,  if  we  seek  it,  we  '  can 
do  all  things ; '  and  I  am  sure  that  I  shall  have  the  sympathy  of 
yourself  and  many  others,  in  prayers  that  to  me,  also,  this  grace  may 
be  given,  and  that  I  may  come  to  you  in  the  fulness  of  the  blessings 
of  the  gospel  of  peace." 

In  a  letter  from  Dr.  Shattuck,  of  the  20th  of  September,  he  was 
informed  that  the  new  parish  had  been  duly  incorporated,  under  the 
name  of  the  "  Church  of  the  Advent,"  and  that  arrangements  had 
been  made  for  its  complete  organization.  And  in  his  next  letter  an 
ofiicial  call  is  communicated  :  — 

Boston,  September  25,  1844. 
Rev.  and  dear  Sir  :  At  a  meeting  of  the  corporation  of  the  parish  of 
the  Advent,  held  last  evening,  you  were  unanimously  elected  the  rector  of 
the  parish,  and  I  was  appointed  a  committee  to  correspond  with  you,  and 
inform  you  of  your  election. 

With  great  regard,  I  am. 

Very  truly,  yours, 

G.C.  SHATTUCK,  Jr. 
Rev.  William  Croswell. 


332  MEMOm  OF  AVILLIAM    CROS-S\^LL.  [1844. 

On  the  receipt  and  acceptance  of  this  call,  he  immediately  ten- 
dered his  resignation  of  his  cure  at  Auhnrn  in  the  following  letter :  — 

BosToif,  September  24,  1844. 
To  THE  Wardens  and  Vestry  of  St.  Peter's  Church,  Auburn. 

Gentlemen :  Considerations  growing  chiefly  out  of  the  state  of  my  own 
health  and  that  of  uiy  family,  and  the  necessity  of  long  and  expensive  an- 
nual absences  on  that  account,  have  for  some  time  impressed  me  with  the 
conviction,  that  it  would  be  my  duty  to  resign  my  present  interesting 
cure.  An  invitation  received  during  my  absence  to  assume  the  charge  of 
"  The  Church  of  the  Advent,"  a  new  parish  just  organized  in  Boston, 
and  to  be  commenced  with  the  opening  of  the  ecclesiastical  year,  has  led  me 
to  the  conclusion  that  the  time  to  act  upon  that  conviction  has  arrived.  I 
therefore  respectfully  tender  herewith  my  resignation  of  the  rectorship  of 
the  parish  of  "  St.  Peter's  Church,  Auburn."  I  cannot  sever  a  tie  which  has 
bound  us  together  in  such  happy  and  harmonious  relations  without  a  severe 
trial  of  feeling  ;  but,  at  the  same  time,  not  without  a  full  persuasion,  that,  in 
so  eligible  a  parish,  there  will  be  no  difficulty  in  securing  a  pastor  after  your 
own  mind.  As  part  of  our  canonical  obligation,  to  "  do  nothing  without  the 
bishop,"  I  submit  a  copy  of  this  letter  to  our  beloved  diocesan,  with  a 
most  grateful  appreciation  of  the  privileges  which  I  have  enjoyed  under 
his  episcopal  guidance,  and  a  most  unaffected  reluctance  to  labor  under  any 
other  master  builder.  I  shall  be  happy  to  continue  to  serve  the  parish  so 
long  as  my  engagements  will  permit,  or  until  provision  is  made  to  secure  a 
successor,  or  other  arrangements  settled  for  permanent  ministrations.  Mean- 
while, with  a  lively  remembrance  of  the  kindness  of  the  parish,  individually 
and  collectively  regarded,  during  my  connection  with  it,  and  with  unabated 
and  earnest  wishes  for  its  welfare  and  prosperity,  I  am,  in  the  bonds  of  the 
Gospel  and  the  Church  of  Christ, 

Your  friend  and  fellow-servant, 

WILLIAM  CROSWELL. 

It  now  remained  for  him  to  return  to  Auburn,  to  take  leave  of 
the  parish,  and  to  make  the  necessary  preparations  for  his  removal. 
Accordingly,  on  the  26th  of  September,  he  left  New  Haven,  with 
his  family  and  his  cousin  Miss  Sherman,  and  after  spending  a  night 
at  Hartford,  proceeded  by  stage  and  steamboat  to  Springfield.  But 
here  the  mother  and  child,  being,  it  was  thought,  too  unwell  to  bear 
the  fatigue  of  the  long,  immediate  journey  westward,  were  persuaded 
to  set  their  faces  directly  to  Boston  ;  while  he  and  his  cousin  set  for- 
ward on  their  way  to  Auburn,  and,  by  journeying  all  night  on  the 
railroad,  reached  Auburn  on  Saturday,  the  28th,  at  nine  o'clock  in 
the  morning.  "  The  night,"  he  says,  in  announcing  his  arrival, 
"  was  as  bright  as  a  full  harvest  moon  could  make  it ;  but  it  was 
very  cold  for  the  season,  and  the  hoarfrost  was  like  snow  upon  the 
ground.  We  kindled  up  a  fire  upon  our  arrival,  and  have  contrived 
to  make  ourselves  comfortable.  My  letter  was  received  by  the  junior 
warden  yesterday,  and  had  been  seen  by  the  members  of  the  vestry 
individually ;  but  as  several  were  absent  from  town,  it  was  thought 
best  to  delay  the  meeting  till  Monday.  All  seem  surprised  ;  many 
will  be  sorry  ;  some,  perhaps,  quite  the  reverse ;  it  would  be  strange 
if  it  were  not  so."     Speaking  of  information  received  from  Boston, 


1844.J  RESIGNATION   OF   ST.   PETER'S.  333 

he  says,  "  Bishop  Eastbukn  made  no  objection  to  my  coming, 
though  he  would  have  preferred  one  whose  theological  views  more 
nearly  corresponded  with  those  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Butler  ! "  He 
concludes,  "  The  prospect  seems  more  cheerful  than  it  did  at  first ; 
and  I  hope  we  shall  have  a  happy  and  harmonious  leavetaking,  and 
without  any  needless  delay." 

Sunday,  the  29th,  he  officiated  as  usual ;  but  the  day  being  stoimy, 
but  few  attended  the  services. 

On  Monday  evening  the  wardens  and  vestry  met,  and  accepted 
his  resignation  ;  making  choice,  at  the  same  time,  of  the  Rev.  Sam- 
uel H.  CoxE  as  his  successor.  And  on  the  following  day  he  re- 
ceived the  official  notice  of  the  result :  — 


Auburn,  October  1,  1844. 

"  Rev.  and  dear  Sir  :  The  wardens  and  vestrymen  of  St.  Peter'.s  Church, 
Auburn,  have  received  your  note  of  the  24th  ult.,  announcing  your  resigna- 
tion of  the  rectorship  of  the  parish.  While  they  admit  the  force  of  the  do- 
mestic reasons  which  have  produced  this  step  on  your  part,  they  cannot  allow 
tlie  occasion  of  their  acceptance  of  your  resignation  to  pass  without  an  ex- 
pression of  their  sincere  regret  at  the  separation.  We  have  been  associated 
for  a  period  of  four  years,  in  the  relation  of  pastor  and  people,  under  circum- 
stances of  both  joy  and  sorrow  ;  and  it  gives  us  pleasure  to  bear  testimony 
to  the  kindness,  faithfulness,  and  ability  with  which  you,  as  a  Christian  min- 
ister, have  discharged  its  various  and  responsible  duties  amongst  us.  If  any 
thing  can  add  to  your  consciousness  of  having  faithfully  discharged  your 
duty  to  the  great  Head  of  the  Church,  in  administering  the  admonitions  and 
consolations  of  our  holy  religion,  it  will  be  in  the  reflection  that  those  ties 
which  have  so  long  bound  us  together  in  sacred  fellowship  are  borne  in  re- 
membrance by  your  parishioners  with  grateful  pleasure.  Be  assured,  sir, 
you  will  carry  with  you,  wherever  you  go,  our  warmest  wishes  for  your  pros- 
perity, happiness,  and  continued  usefulness. 

I  have  the  honor  to  be,  in  behalf  of  the  wardens  and  vestrymen  of  St. 
Peter's  Church,  Auburn,  your  sincere  friend  and  obedient  servant, 

S.  A.  GOODWIN. 

Rev.  William  Croswell. 


From  his  diocesan,  Bishop  De  Lancet,  who  was,  at  the  time,  in 
Philadelphia,  attending  the  session  of  the  General  Convention,  he 
received  the  following  note,  of  October  8,  written  in  great  haste, 
and  amid  the  absorbing  duties  of  the  House  of  Bishops  :  — 

" .  .  .  I  am  so  occupied  that  I  am  only  able  to  say  how 
sorry  I  am  that  you  are  about  to  leave  the  diocese,  as  stated  in  your 
letter.  I  will  not  complain,  however,  for  I  know  you  would  only 
do  it  on  solid  and  conscientious  grounds.  May  God  bless  you  and 
yours  wherever  you  go ;  and  be  assured  of  my  affijctionate  regard 
and  love.  I  shall  hope  to  hear  from  you  before  you  start  for 
Boston.  The  election  of  Mr.  Coxe,  as  your  successor,  so  promptly 
and  harmoniously,  gives  me  great  pleasure.  May  the  work  prosper 
in  his  hands." 


334  MEMOIE   OF  T\r[LLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1844. 

On  the  9th  of  October,  he  writes  to  his  mother,  —  his  father  being 
absent  at  the  General  Convention,  —  "It  has  been  a  great  relief  to 
both  Elizabeth  and  myself  that  my  wife  and  Maky  were  safely 
domesticated  for  the  winter.  What  with  the  fatigue  and  exposure 
of  the  journey,  the  anxiety  and  discomfort  of  breaking  up  the  house, 
and  the  parting  with  every  human  being,  man,  woman,  and  child,  in 
the  parish,  the  trial,  I  fear,  would  have  been  too  great.  ...  I 
wrote  to  the  Rev.  Mr.  Coxe,  at  the  request  of  the  vestry,  with  great 
cordiality.  He  has  given  me  a  very  affectionate  reply,  and  will 
probably  be  here  this  week.  As  soon  as  I  can  set  him  on  his  way 
rejoicing,  I  shall  go  on  mine." 

To  some  of  his  friends  he  writes,  under  the  same  date,  in  a  more 
pensive  mood,  enclosing  copies  of  the  following  stanzas,  "which," 
he  remarks,  "  are  probably  the  last  strains  which  I  shall  ever  indite 
in  this  consecrated  house,  now  '  left  unto  us  desolate.'  "  They  were 
written  in  a  copy  of  Milton,  presented  by  the  Rev.  E.  G.  Prescott, 
who  died  on  his  passage  to  the  Azores,  on  the  third  day  after  his 
departure,  on  the  morning  of  the  11th  of  April,  1844.  Copies  were 
transcribed,  not  only  for  these,  but  other  friends,  and  were  finally 
published  at  the  close  of  Bishop  Doane's  commemorative  discourse. 
To  Miss  Callahan  he  writes,  "  Though  I  do  not  consider  them  as 
worthy  of  publication,  I  know  that  you  will  value  them,  and  that 
there  are  other  friends,  in  whose  kindred  eyes  they  may  have  an 
interest,  apart  from  the  consideration  of  poetical  merit." 


ELEGIAC. 

Thy  cherished  gift,  departed  friend, 

With  trembling  I  unfold, 
And  fondly  gaze  upon  its  lids 

In  crimson  wrought,  and  gold. 
I  open  to  its  dirge-like  strain 

On  one  who  died  at  sea ; 
And  as  I  read  of  Lycidas, 

I  think,  the  while,  of  thee. 


Thy  languid  spirit  sought  in  vain 

The  beautiful  Azores, 
But,  ere  it  reached  the  middle  main, 

Was  rapt  to  happier  shores. 
As  in  a  dream-like,  halcyon  calm, 

It  entered  on  its  rest, 
Amid  the  groves  of  Paradise, 

And  islands  of  the  blest. 


1844.]  KEMOVAL  TO   BOSTON.  3a5 

Kind  friends  afar,  at  thy  behest, 

Had  fitted  bower  and  hall  » 

To  entertain  their  kindred  guest 

In  ever-green  Fayal. 
In  greener  bowers  thy  bed  is  made, 

And  sounder  is  thy  sleep, 
Than  ever  life  had  known,  among 

The  chambers  of  the  deep. 

No  mark  along  the  waste  may  tell 

The  place  of  thy  repose  ; 
Yet  there  is  One  who  loved  thee  well, 

And  loved  by  thee,  who  knows. 
And  though  now  sunk,  like  Lycidas, 

Beneath  the  watery  floor. 
Yet  His  great  might  that  walked  the  waves 

Shall  thy  dear  fonn  restore. 

Though  years  must  first  pass  by,  no  time 

His  purpose  shall  derange. 
And  in  his  guardianship  thy  soul 

Shall  suffer  no  "  sea  change." 
And  when  the  depths  give  back  their  charge, 

O,  may  our  welcome  be 
With  thine,  among  Christ's  ransomed  throngs, 

Where  there  is  "  no  more  sea  " ! 

Writing  to  Rev.  Dr.  Strong  on  St.  John's  day,  June  24,  he  says, 
"Prescott's  death  shocked  me  greatly.  We  were  intimate,  and 
nearly  the  same  age  ;  and  I  have  some  similar  warnings  to  remind 
me  that  the  house  of  my  earthly  tabernacle  is  not  too  strong  to  be 
dissolved.  Whenever  it  is,  may  I  have  with  you,  dearest  brother,  a 
share  in  that  house  of  God,  not  made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the 
heavens." 

To  another  friend,  the  much  venerated  Miss  Margaret  Coffin, 
he  expresses  similar  sentiments  of  the  scenes  of  desolation  by  which 
he  was  surrounded,  and  of  the  great  struggle  which  it  cost  him  to 
part  with  his  people,  moving  him  "  oftentimes  to  tears."  Speaking 
also  of  his  verses,  he  adds,  "I  have  sent  them  only  where  they  will  be 
sure  of  a  partial  construction,  and  with  the  apology,  that  according 
to  what  a  man  hath  it  is  required,  and  not  according  to  what  he 
hath  not."  He  concludes  in  this  affecting  strain  :  "  For  myself,  I 
confess  I  look  forward  with  great  delight  to  the  period  when  our 
intercourse  shall  be  renewed  as  in  other  days,  and  with  those  also 
whom,  next  to  my  own  kindred  in  the  flesh,  I  dearly  love  in  the 
Lord.     That  it  may  please  God  to  allow  us  many  years  of  happy 


336  MEMOIR  OF  WILLIAM   CROS^VELL.  [1844. 

intercourse,  and  that  we  may  both  live  to  see  the  work  of  the  Lord 
/prosper  in  our  hands,  and  great  peace  upon  Israel,  is  the  fervent 
prayer  of  yours,  with  great  sincerity  and  affection." 

In  speaking  of  his  approaching  separation  from  this  cure,  he 
expresses  himself  with  much  emotion  :  "  I  took  my  leave  of  the 
parish  from  the  pulpit  on  Sunday  afternoon.  The  separation  of 
the  ties  that  have  bound  us  together  has  tried  my  firmness  to  the 
uttermost.  ...  It  was  almost  as  solemn  a  '  rehearsal  of  death  ' 
as  that  at  Christ  Church  four  years  since.  I  find  that  my  own 
attachments  are  stronger  than  I  was  aware  ;  and  there  is  every 
evidence  on  the  other  side  of  the  most  unaffected  and  universal 
regret."  To  another  friend  he  expresses  similar  sentiments  :  "  I 
find  the  mutual  attachments,  which  had  sprung  up  and  ripened,  were 
stronger  than  we  were  probably  aware  of  on  either  side,  and  it 
requires  more  firmness  than  I  can  always  command  to  sever  them. 
I  have  received  every  demonstration  of  confidence,  sympathy,  and 
regard,  down  to  this  last  moment,  when  the  house  is  dismantled, 
and  I  have  only  to  introduce  my  successor  and  take  leave. 
My  cousin  will  probably  take  her  departure  to-morrow  for  New 
Haven.  When  I  shall  be  able  to  follow,  I  cannot  now  fix  a  day. 
The  last  link,  however,  will  soon  be  broken,  and  I  shall  be  free, 
humanly  speaking." 

It  appears  from  his  journal  that  he  left  Auburn  on  Friday,  Oc- 
tober 25,  and  making  a  short  pause  at  Utica  and  Albany,  passed 
down  the  river  on  Saturday  night  to  New  York.  Here  he  enjoyed 
the  hospitalities  of  his  friend  Couthouy,  who  then  resided  in  the 
city,  and  with  him  attended  the  ministrations  of  the  Church  of  the 
Crucifixion,  having  the  gratification,  which  he  had  much  desired,  of 
hearing  Dr.  Seabury.  On  the  Thursday  following  he  visited  his 
friend  Bishop  Doane,  at  Burlington,  and  returning  on  Saturday, 
spent  another  Sunday  in  New  York.  On  Monday,  November  4, 
he  proceeded  to  New  Haven,  thence  to  Hartford,  and  on  the  7th, 
his  fortieth  birthday,  he  arrived  in  Boston,  ready  to  resume  his 
ministerial  duties  among  his  old  friends  and  brethren,  but  in  a  new 
pastoral  relation.  He  was  just  in  time  to  answer  to  the  following 
pleasant  call  from  his  good  friend  Dr.  Shattuck  :  — 


"  Rev.  and  dear  Sir  :  Invitations  are  issued  for  Thursday  evening,  at 
8  o'clock,  to  meet  the  rector,  wardens,  and  vestry  of  the  Church  of  the 
Advent.  Please  do  what  you  can  to  save  us  from  such  a  predicament  as 
was  that  of  the  players  who  performed  Hamlet,  the  part  of  Hamlet  being 
left  out." 


He  writes  in  his  next  letter,  « I  was  in  season  for  the  party  at 
Dr.  Shattuck's,  where  1  met  with  quite  a  host  of  catholic  Church- 
men, including  some  twenty  of  the  clergy  and  laymen  of  all  the 


1844.]  CHURCH   OF  THE   ADVENT.  337 

cliiirches.  By  a  wonderful  coincidence,  it  occurred  to  me  often,  in 
the  course  of  the  day,  that  this  day  of  my  entrance  was  my  fortieth 
birthday." 

It  now  remained  to  make  suitable  arrangements  for  the  celebra- 
tion of  divine  worship  under  the  new  organization,  and  to  com- 
mence with  the  ecclesiastical  year.  Some  little  difficulty  was  expe- 
rienced in  [u-ocuring  a  room  for  this  purpose.  But  it  will  be  seen 
by  the  subjoined  card,  which  was  issued  at  the  time,  that  every  thing 
was  in  readiness  for  the  anticipated  service.  And  on  the  27th  of  No- 
vember he  writes  to  his  father  in  this  wise :  "  This  is  a  w^eek  of 
anxiety  and  care,  but  full  of  joyful  anticipation.  .  .  .  We  have 
engaged  our  room,  and  are  putting  it  in  order.  The  'devotions  of 
the  people  '  are  veiy  animating  and  abundant.  Our  only  trouble  is, 
that  we  can  get  no  room  that  will  be  large  enough  at  present.  I 
have  already  the  names  of  more  than  ninety  who  have  voluntarily 
enrolled  themselves  under  my  pastoral  care,  including  children, 
and  nearly  fifty  communicants.  Donations  have  been  forthcoming 
from  all  quarters  for  putting  our  oratory  in  order.  In  short,  I  have 
all  sorts  of  encouragement,  and  shall  endeavor,  by  the  divine  bless- 
ing, that  it  shall  not  be  my  fault  if  the  work  does  not  prosper  in 
such  feeble  hands.  ...  I  have  received  from  Bishop  De  Lancey 
my  letter  dimissory,  and  shall  present  it  to  our  present  diocesan 
to-day.  He  is  civil ;  and  I  ask  and  expect  nothing  more.  '  A  fair 
field,  and  no  favors,'  is  my  desire.  ...  A  great  deal  of  duty,  of 
course,  as  you  well  know,  in  these  preliminary  matters,  devolves 
upon  me ;  though  my  coadjutors  are  very  active,  and  ready  to  do 
any  thing  to  help  forward  the  work.      I  will  send  you  our  card." 


"THE   CHURCH   OF  THE   ADVENT 

"  Has  been  recently  organized  and  incorporated,  with  a  view  to  secure  to  the 
inhabitants  of  the  north-western  portion  of  the  city  the  ministrations  of  the 
Protestant  Episcopal  Churcli;  and  more  especially  to  secure  the  same  to  the 
poor  and  needy  in  a  manner  free  from  unnecessary  expense  and  all  ungracious 
circumstances. 

"  A  convenient  place  of  worship  is  about  to  be  provided  in  the  building 
now  in  a  course  of  erection  on  the  corner  of  Lowell  and  Causeway  Streets. 

"  Until  this  building  is  completed,  temporary  arrangements  have  been 
made  for  holding  divine  service  in  an  '  upper  room '  at  No.  13  Merrimack 
Street,  within  a  few  doors  of  Causeway  Street  —  to  commence  on  Advent 
Sunday,  the  first  day  in  December. 

"  The  sittings  will  be  free  to  all.  Permanent  seats,  however,  will  be  ap- 
propriated to  those  who  signify  their  intention  to  become  constant  occupants. 

"  Tlie  Church  will  be  supported,  as  all  churches  were  formerly  wont  to 
be,  by  the  voluntary  oblations  of  the  worshippers.  In  accordance  with  the 
precepts  of  God's  word  and  the  order  of  his  Church,  opportunity  will  be 
afforded  for  each  individual,  whether  young  or  old,  to  '  offer  his  gift  upon 
the  altar '  in  that  part  of  the  divine  service  which  is  called  '  the  offertory.' 
'  Every  man  according  as  he  is  disposed  in  his  heart,  not  grudgingly  or  of 
necessity,  for  God  loveth  a  cheerful  giver.' 


338  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1844. 

"  A  prominent  object,  in  addition  to  the  usual  offices  of  worship,  will  be 
the  thorough  catechetical  training  of  the  children  in  the  principles  and  prac- 
tice of  Christ's  religion,  as  set  forth  in  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer. 

"  The  cooperation  of  all  who  are  disposed  to  take  a  part  in  this  good  work 
is  respectfully  and  earnestly  solicited. 

"For  further  information,  apply  to  the  rector,  the  Rev.  W.  Croswell, 
7  Crescent  Place,  or  to  either  of  the  following  gentlemen :  R.  H.  Dana, 
Seiiior  Warden,  C.  P.  Gordon,  Junior  Warden,  R.  M.  Copeland,  Theo- 
dore Metcalf,  T.  J.  M.  Dehon,  T.  D.  Morris,  W.  E.  Coale,  R.  H. 
Dana,  Jr.,  R.  H.  Salter,  C.  R.  Bond,  Vestrymen.  • 

"  (i;^  The  rector  will  hold  himself  in  readiness  to  attend  to  any  of  the 
duties  of  his  calling,  public  or  private,  especially  those  connected  with  the 
offices  for  the  Visitation  and  Communion  of  the  Sick,  the  Burial  of  the 
Dead,  &c." 

The  services  were  accordingly  commenced,  agreeably  to  this  an- 
nouncement. And  he  writes,  December  3,  "  Advent  Smiday  was 
rather  unpropitioiis  without,  but  the  King's  daughter  was  all  glorious 
within.  Our  loft  was  crowded  all  day  and  evening.  The  congre- 
gation seemed  much  gratified,  and  expressed  a  hope  that  the  future 
might  be  according  to  this  beginning.  ...  I  have  a  delightful 
letter  from  brother  Strong,  who  was  always  one  of  my  most  valued 
correspondents,  and  I  am  rejoiced  to  find  so  many  hearts  like  his 
beating  so  truly  towards  me." 

As  Dr.  Strong  was  among  those  of  his  friends  and  bretln-en  who 
most  deeply  and  sincerely  regretted  his  removal  from  Boston  to 
Auburn,  he  is  now  found  among  the  first  to  bid  him  a  joyful  wel- 
come back.     A  portion  of  his  letter  is  transcribed  :  — 

Greenfield,  JVovember  22,  1844. 
Rev.  and  dear  Brother  :  I  do  not  know  when  I  have  experienced  a 
sensation  of  greater  delight  than  when  I  was  told  in  Philadelphia  that  you 
were  to  return  to  Boston,  to  take  the  charge  of  a  new  parish.  And  I 
intended  to  write  you  immediately  on  my  arrival  here,  congratulating  you, 
and  the  Church,  and  myself  on  the  auspicious  occurrence.  I  have,  however, 
from  illness  and  other  causes,  delayed  the  accomplishment  of  my  design 
until  now,  when  I  take  up  my  pen  for  the  purpose  of  welcoming  you  sincerely, 
though  late,  to  your  old  home  and  the  many  pleasant  associations  of  your 
former  labors.  And  I  do  most  fervently  pray,  that  your  valuable  services 
may  be  continued  in  this  portion  of  the  vineyard  without  interruption  or 
change,  and  that  you  may  be  as  useful  and  as  happy  as  your  friends  or 
yourself  can  anticipate.     .     .     . 

Your  friend  and  brother, 

T.  STRONG. 

With  a  few  brief  extracts  from  his  weekly  correspondence,  relat- 
ing chiefly  to  the  condition  and  prospects  of  his  new  enterprise,  the 
record  of  this  eventful  year  is  closed. 

December  9,  speaking  of  the  new  hall :  "  It  advances  slowly,  but 
will  be  ready,  I  think,  by  mid-Lent  at  farthest.  Meanwhile  our  little 
loft  is  full  to  overflowing.  Yesterday  afternoon  troops  of  people 
went   away    for    scarcity   of  room,   and    many  remained   standing 


1845.]  CHUllCH   OF  THE   ADVENT.  339 

during  the  whole  services.  Some  sat  round  tlie  footstei)s  of  the  altar. 
At  present,  we  have  three  services  a  day." 

December  16,  Wednesday  in  Ember  week :  "  To-day,  in  accord- 
ance with  the  design  of  the  Church,  since  public  worship  I  have 
endeavored  to  seclude  myself,  and  keep  holy  time  by  devout  obser- 
vance, as  I  have  recommended  to  my  people.  We  continue  to  gather 
a  crowded  assemblage,  thrice  on  Sunday,  at  our  chapel,  and  in  this 
respect  exceed  the  most  sanguine  expectations  of  our  friends,  and 
even  my  own.  .  .  .  Not  only  in  the  numbers  who  come  is  the 
hand  of  God  so  good  upon  us,  but  in  the  character  of  the  attendance, 
including,  as  it  does,  some  of  the  best  and  most  influential  minds  in 
the  Church  in  the  city.  There  is  a  charm,  doubtless,  in  the  very 
unpretendiHgness  of  the  loft,  where  there  is  nothing  to  mar  the 
influence  of  our  almost  inspired  service,  and  nothing  is  required  to 
be  sacrificed  to  the  artificial  distinctions  which  so  generally  prevail 
in  our  churches." 

December  23 :  "  Our  ecclesiastical  affairs  continue  to  be  as 
auspicious  as  at  the  first.  .  .  .  This  week  we  have  two  services 
on  Christmas  day,  and  a  five  o'clock  service  on  the  other  holy  days, 
which  fill  up  the  week.  .  .  .  We  shall  make  a  sylvan  lodge 
of  our  upper  room,  and  it  is  delightful  to  get  back  to  a  laud  of 
laurel  and  evergreens." 

It  is  worthy  of  remark,  that  the  Rev.  Dr.  Eaton,  who  had  been 
for  many  years  the  uniform  friend  and  counsellor  of  the  rector,  was 
one  of  the  first  among  the  clergy  of  the  city  to  give  his  sanction  to 
this  new  enterprise,  by  regular  attendance  on  the  worship,  and  by 
frequently  participating  in  the  services. 


1845. 


On  New  Year's  day,  being  the  Feast  of  the  Circumcision,  the 
"  upper  room  "  was  opened  for  the  appropriate  services  of  the  day ; 
and  on  this  occasion  the  sacrament  of  baptism  was  administered  for 
the ^rs^  time  in  this  humble  though  solemn  place.  The  child  bap- 
tized was  a  daughter  of  Dr.  Richard  H.  vSalter,  a  vestryman  of 
the  new  parish.  And  it  may  be  here  mentioned,  as  a  most  remark- 
able and  affecting  circumstance,  that  the  last  baptism  performed  by 
the  rector,  and  this  on  the  day  of  his  death,  was  for  another  child 
of  the  same  parents. 

The  correspondence  of  the  year  opens  in  great  sadness.  On 
New  Year's  day  he  thus  writes  to  his  father :  "  Yesterday  we 
received  from  Hartford  the  distressing  intelligence  of  the  sudden 


340  MEMOIR   OF   ^\TLLIAM   CROSA\^LL.  [1845. 

death  of  our  very  dear  friend  Mrs.  Sumner,  who  expired,  as  you  know, 
on  Sunday  morning ;  and  I  have  ever  since  been  in  a  kind  of  dismal 
dream,  from  which  I  rouse  to  ask  myself,  Can  this  indeed  be  so  1 
My  first  impulse  was  to  take  the  cars  of  the  afternoon,  that  1  might 
look  once  more  upon  the  face  of  the  truest-hearted  friend  that  God 
ever  allowed  a  sinful  man  like  me  to  rejoice  in,  and  towards  whom 
my  heart  lias  ever  turned  with  a  fulness  of  satisfaction,  confidence, 
and  repose  never  felt  towards  any  other  who  was  not  bound  to  me 
by  ties  of  blood.  I  do  not  know  that  I  did  right  to  resist  those 
impulses ;  but  it  seemed  as  if  my  engagements  here  were  of  an 
imperative  kind;  and  I  feel  that  it  is  generally  a  safe  rule  to  do  that 
which  costs  me  the  most  sacrifice,  and  such  a  sacrifice  it  has  been 
to  me  to  remain  as  I  am.  I  have  found  it  very  difficult  to  write 
them  until  to-day.  Words  seem  so  inadequate  to  express  our  emo- 
tions, and  to  be,  as  it  were,  a  mockery  of  sorrow.  All,  too,  seems 
in  this  case  so  unreal.  I  have  had,  during  tlie  last  year,  many  ad- 
monitions of  my  own  mortality.  I  have  felt  how  liable  we  all  were 
to  die ;  and  as  I  preached,  on  Sunday  last,  of  the  fading  grass  and 
the  withering  flower,  the  fointing  heart  and  the  failing  flesh,  as 
contrasted  with  the  enduring  nature  of  the  realities  revealed  in  the 
gospel,  a  foreboding  shadow  of  some  undefined  ill  seemed  to  be  hov- 
ering about  me.  But  how  little  did  I  think  what  that  sad  day  was 
bringing  forth !  With  Mrs.  Sumner  I  had  never  associated  any  other 
idea  than  that  of  the  necessity  of  her  continuance  among  us,  as  the 
wellspring  of  all  domestic  comfort  and  enjoyment,  and  the  centre 
of  all  genial  and  diftiisive  hospitality.  I  was  not  myself  aware, 
till  now,  how  much  my  return  to  my  old  position  here  had  been 
influenced  by  the  anticipation  of  oft;en  repeating  those  brief  so- 
journs under  that  roof,  upon  which  I  fondly  look  back,  as  among 
the  dearest  of  departed  joys  ;  and  it  was  among  the  causes  of 
thankfulness,  on  the  completion  of  the  railroad,  that  it  brought  us 
so  much  neai^er  to  those  doors.  Alas !  that  upon  these  innocent 
delights  also  should  be  inscribed  vanity  !  "     '    . 

January  16,  with  reference  to  the  magnetic  telegraph,  it  will  be 
perceived  that  he  writes  as  if  it  were  a' thing  rather  to  be  desired 
than  expected  :  "  Should  this  ever  be  accomplished,  we  can  whisper 
together,  from  one  end  of  the  country  to  the  other,  with  a  sort  of 
galvanic  thrill."  In  the  same  letter  he  speaks  thus  of  his  aftairs  : 
"  We  have  passed  along  into  the  middle  of  the  winter  without  being 
aware  of  it ;  so  mild  is  the  weather,  and  so  pleasant  and  varied  our 
occupations.  I  can  say  that  I  never  enjoyed  existence  here  so 
much  as  I  have  since  my  return  from  the  west.  I  have  access  to 
some  very  choice  society,  which  I  trust  I  appreciate,  and  hope  to 
benefit  by  the  privilege.  Our  work  goes  on  very  prosperously  at 
Advent  Hall,  and  we  have  yet  met  with  no  obstacles." 

The  following  passage  is  cited  from  a  letter  of  January  21  to  show 


1845.]  CHURCH   OF  THE   ADVENT.  341 

how  the  bisho])  treated  the  rector  before  he  saw  fit  to  chanj^e  liis 
policy  and  deportment  towards  the  new  parish.  Happy,  perliaps, 
would  it  have  been  for  both  jjarties  had  that  change  never  taken 
place.  "  Every  thing  is  as  usual  here.  The  bishop  preached  to  a 
fine  audience  at  the  Church  of  the  Advent  last  Sunday  evening, 
and  has  kindly  requested  me  to  preach  one  of  the  Price  Lectures." 

He  dwells,  as  it  is  but  natural  he  should,  in  all  his  correspondence 
of  this  period,  on  the  condition  and  prospects  of  his  new  pastoral 
charge.  February  3  he  writes,  "We  are  getting  on  very  bravely 
in  our  work  here.  The  Church  of  the  Advent  continues  to  be  as 
much  frequented  as  ever,  and  by  high  and  low,  rich  and  poor,  one 
with  another.  We  endure  the  reproach  of  '  Puseyism  '  in  common 
with  some  of  the  best  names  among  us  ;  but  that  is  a  small  matter, 
even  if  it  were  deserved.  Meanwhile  we  go  quietly  on,  avoiding 
controversies,  and  desiring  to  turn  neither  to  the  right  hand  or  the 
left."  He  here  hints  at  a  subject  which  had  long  occupied  his 
thoughts  ;  and  although  he  was  not  spared  to  accomplish  his  desire 
in  full,  several  devotional  productions  of  his  pen  are  found  in  these 
pages,  which  were  doubtless-  designed  originally  for  a  part  of  the 
series  here  suggested.  "  I  grow  more  and  more  satisfied  that  the 
Church  needs,  more  than  any  thing  else,  a  body  of  Hymns  adapted 
to  devotional  use,  and  founded  on  the  order  of  the  Christian   year." 

February  11  he  writes,  "  We  have  commenced  Lent  with  five 
services  per  week  —  three  on  Sunday,  and  one  on  Wednesday  and 
Friday.  I  have,  however,  some  exchanges  and  some  assistance,  and 
could  have  more  if  I  needed  it.  On  the  whole,  I  do  no  more  than 
is  good  for  me,  and  I  only  hope  it  will  be  as  good  for  others  as  well." 
Among  his  other  duties,  he  mentions  his  daily  visits  to  a  poor  pris- 
oner confined  in  Leverett  Street  jail,  under  condemnation  of  death. 
"  I  spend  the  best  part  of  an  honr  with  him  every  morning,  and 
shall  continue  to  do  so,  if  my  health  and  life  are  spared.  As  yet, 
none  of  the  brethren,  have  accompanied  me  ;  but  I  expect  brother 
Wells  will  be  joined  with  me  in  some  of  my  future  visits.  He  is 
great  in  ministering  ro  such  exigencies.  I,  alas  !  like  Moses,  am  a 
man  of  uncircumcised  lips." 

His  taste  in  church  architecture  was  known  to  be  peculiarly 
rigid,  insomuch  that  he  was  thought  by  some  to  be  rather  fastidious 
on  the  subject.  Comparing  a  beautiful  church  edifice,  which  had 
been  erected  in  the  neighboring  village  of  Chelsea  at  a  very  moder- 
ate expense,  with  what  he  calls  "  the  ugly  abortions  which  disfigure 
the  villages  all  over  the  land,"  he  remarks,  "  I  should  never  be 
anxious  that  a  rural  church  should  be  undertaken  in  stone  ;  because, 
if  of  any  frailer  material,  there  will  be  reason  to  hope  that  in  time 
it  may  be  superseded  by  a  severer  model,  and  need  not  be  per- 
petuated forever." 

In  a  letter  dated  on  the  Feast  of  St.  Matthias,  addressed  to  his 


342  MEMOIR   OF   WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1845. 

friend  Couthouy,  congratulating  him  on  the  recovery  of  his  httle 
son,  William  Croswell,  from  dangerous  sickness,  he  says,  "  Read 
for  your  solace,  next  to  the  Bible,  the  last  four  verses  of  Keble's 
Circumcision,  — 

'  Art  thou  a  child  of  tears, 
Cradled  in  care  and  woe  ?  '  — 

and  tell  me  where,  short  of  the  inspired  Psalmist,  you  can  find  a 
strain  more  calculated,  like  the  gospel,  for  soothing  rather  than  ex- 
citement. Under  the  influence  of  this  spirit,  may  my  little  name- 
sake, as  well  as  you  and  I,  and  all  of  us,  happily  live  and  happily 
die,  and  be  taught  to  cultivate,  as  most  indispensable  to  enjoyment, 
the  habit  of  reverent  submission  to  the  parental  authority  which 
God  hath  set,  first  in  the  household,  and  then  in  the  Church." 

Amid  the  incessant  duties  of  the  Lenten  season,  he  experienced 
occasional  returns  of  his  old  malady,  the  headache  ;  but  the  attacks 
were  now  less  frequent  and  of  nnich  shorter  duration,  and  seldom, 
as  it  seems,  impeded  the  current  of  his  labors.  Writing,  March 
11,  after  suffering  from  one  of  these  turns,  he  says,  "I  officiated, 
however,  on  Sunday,  and  am  now,  with  the  rest  of  us,  thank  God, 
as  well  as  ever.  The  duties  of  the  season,  of  course,  grow  more 
and  more  absorbing  every  day,  as  Easter  draws  on."  Again,  on 
Easter  even,  he  writes :  "  Our  services  at  this  season  have  been 
very  delightful,  and  the  most  solemn  and  impressive  Good  Friday 
solemnities  at  which  I  ever  was  present  were  those  of  our  upper 
room,  yesterday.  The  same  feeling  was  universal.  Our  altar,  as 
I  remember  it  was  in  my  youth  at  New  Haven,  was  in  black ;  the 
music  full  of  pathos,  and  melted  all  hearts  to  tears ;  and  the  ser- 
mon, as  I  trust,  was  in  entire  unison  with  the  services. 
With  the  help  of  brother  Davenport,  we  have  had  two  services 
every  day  since  the  commencement  of  Passion  Week,  and  we  have 
preached  alternately.  Every  thing  has  succeeded  beyond  my  most 
sanguine  expectations  in  this  new  enterprise.  Not  a  single  draw- 
back of  any  sort,  thus  far.  My  Price  Lecture,  on  Wednesday, 
seems  to  have  given  great  satisfaction  to  all  whom  I  am  most 
anxious  to  please.  The  bishop  took  some  exceptions,  but  they 
were  not  of  much  moment."  This  remark  should  not  be  construed 
into  an  expression  of  disrespect  for  the  bishop's  opinions.  He  prob- 
ably intended  merely  to  say,  that  ihe  points  in  the  lecture  to  which 
the  bishop  took  exceptions  were  not,  in  themselves,  of  much  mo- 
ment. In  his  next  letter,  dated  Wednesday  after  Easter,  he  gives 
a  glowing  account  of  the  services  of  that  great  festival,  and  speaks 
in  terms  of  high  gratification  of  the  business  transactions  of  the 
parish  meeting,  of  the  prosperous  state  of  their  financial  affairs, 
and   especially  of  the   zeal   and   enthusiasm  of  the  whole  congrega- 


1845.]  CHURCH   OF  THE  ADVENT.  343 

tion.  He  gratefully  acknowledges,  also,  some  valuable  tokens  of 
personal  attachment,  in  the  form  of  Easter  gifts,  and,  among  others, 
a  sum  of  money  from  several  gentlemen  of  the  parish,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  procuring  books  for  his  private  use  ;  and  also  from  the  late 
Joseph  W.  Ingraham  "  a  set  of  the  Massachusetts  School  Library," 
which,  he  says,  "  is  the  largest  and  most  valuable  donation  of 
books  which  I  ever  received."  He  adds,  in  the  same  letter,  the 
following  pleasing  item  of  intelligence:  "The  cornerstone  of  St. 
Stephen's  Free  Chapel  was  laid  on  Easter  Monday.  This  is  to  be 
built  entirely  by  one  individual,  W.  Appleton,  Esq.,  and  our  friend 
Wells  is  the  missionary.  The  scene  only  increased  our  longings 
for  the  day  when  that  of  the  Advent  shall  be  laid." 

Having  now  passed  through  the  labors  of  the  Easter  solemnities, 
he  felt  the  want  of  some  relaxation,  and  accordingly  projected  a 
visit  with  his  family  to  New  Haven.  He  could  allow  himself, 
however,  but  a  short  absence,  including  only  a  single  Sunday. 
"  The  Sunday  following,"  he  says,  "  is  Rogation  Sunday  ;  and  the 
week  is  full  of  red-letter  days,  including  Ascension  day,  on  which 
we  intend  to  celebrate  the  holy  communion.  Then  follow  the  great 
festivals  of  Whitsunday  and  Trinity,  on  the  last  of  which  we  hope 
to  remove  to  our  second  place  of  worship,  with  the  trust  that  the 
time  is  not  distant  when  we  shall  require  a  better  tabernacle  and  a 
permanent  dwelling-place.  And  all  the  days  between,  till  the  con- 
vention assembles,  will  be  much  absorbed  in  preparing  our  first 
candidates  for  the  holy  ordinances  of  baptism,  confirmation,  and 
communion."  After  speaking  in  terms  of  gratification  of  the  general 
and  favorable  attention  drawn  to  the  Church  of  the  Advent,  he 
adds,  "  If  we  had  as  large  a  church  as  there  is  in  the  city,  there 
would  be  a  gathering  of  the  doves  to  the  windows.  Our  place  is 
uncomfortably  tlironged  at  all  the  services ;  and  we  have  more  than 
seventy  comnumicants  who  have  spontaneously  reported  themselves. 
Others  excuse  themselves  until  there  is  more  room." 

As  a  sort  of  episode  in  the  current  of  events,  he  had  the  satis- 
faction, during  the  month  of  May,  of  receiving  a  visit  from  his 
parents.  His  mother  arrived  on  the  8th,  in  company  with  a  friend 
and  his  wife  and  child,  who  had  prolonged  their  stay  at  New  Haven 
until  that  time.  While  he  notes  many  incidents  of  this  visit  with  evi- 
dent gratification,  he  seems  to  dwell  with  peculiar  pleasure  on  every 
thing  which  contributed  to  their  mutual  religious  enjoyment.  "  When 
the  day  of  Pentecost  was  fully  come,"  he  says,  "  we  were,  like  the 
apostles,  with  one  accord,  in  one  place,  and  mother  was  with  us,  in 
our  upper  room,  at  the  breaking  of  bread,  and  also  at  the  afternoon 

service.     Both  she  and  Mrs.  B (her  friend)  seemed  to  enjoy  our 

simple  service  very  much,  and  to  prefer  attendance  there  to  the  more 
costly  sanctuaries."  In  the  same  letter  he  says,  with  reference  to  the 
anticipated  visit  of  his  father,  "  I  wish  you,  by  all  means,  to  be  here 


344  MEMOIR  OF  WILLIAM    CROSWELL.  [1845. 

on  the  first  Sunday  after  Trinity,  which  will  be  our  last  day  in  our 
present  quarters,  whether  the  new  one  be  ready  or  not,  as  I  have 
no  objection  to  have  you  see  under  what  circumstances  our  infancy 
has  been  cradled."  Again,  he  writes  on  the  20th  :  "  The  bishop 
of  the  diocese  will  be  absent  next  Sunday  ;  but  desired  me,  with 
his  best  respects,  to  request  you  to  take  his  place  at  Trinity  Church 
in  the  morning.  ...  In  the  afternoon  I  shall  expect  you  to 
preach  the  last  sermon  in  our  present  nestling-place  ;  and  for  the 
rest,  I  will  release  you  from  any  other  claims,  tliough  I  dare  say 
you  will  hardly  escape  without  being  required  to  preach  a  third 
time."  And  so  it  happened ;  the  third  sermon  being  preached  at 
Christ  Church  in  the  evening.  But,  besides  th^se  duties,  his  father 
was  called  to  minister  in  a  case  of  most  atfecting  interest.  On 
his  arrival  in  Boston,  he  was  requested  to  visit  a  lovely  little  girl, 
in  whom  he  had  taken  a  deep  interest  while  she  was  spending 
some  months  with  her  grandparents  in  New  Haven.  She  had  been 
for  some  time  in  declining  health,  and  was  now,  as  she  well 
understood,  rapidly  approaching  her  end.  Her  young  heart  clung 
to  one  from  whom  she  liad  already  received  much  religious  instruc- 
tion ;  and,  at  her  own  request,  the  visits  were  repeated  until  the 
time  of  her  departure.  She  passed  through  her  change  in  peace 
and  holy  joy.  By  the  desire  of  her  friends,  he  performed  the  last 
solemn  rites,  as  well  at  the  dwelling  of  the  parents  as  at  the  grave 
at  Mount  Auburn. 

On  tiie  loth  of  May,  the  hall  of  the  Massachusetts  Horticultu- 
ral Society  was  dedicated  ;  and  in  the  printed  order  of  exercises  is 
found  the  following  "  Original  Hymn,  written  expressly  for  the  oc- 
casion, by  Rev.  William  Croswell  :  "  — 

Thou,  who  hast  taught  us  how  to  prize 

The  truths  which  nature's  fragrant  maze, 
In  glories  of  unnumbered  dyes, 

To  our  enraptured  sense  conveys. 
Be  with  us  in  this  festal  hour. 

And,  while  the  clouds  of  incense  swim 
In  homage  from  each  chaliced  flower. 

Accept,  with  these,  our  grateful  hymn. 

Amid  the  city's  stunning  din 

Thy  mute  but  radiant  power  we  bless. 
That,  through  its  dusty  depths,  pours  in 

Such  gleams  of  vernal  loveliness  ; 
That  here  thy  odorous  blooms  impart, 

Above  all  art  or  man's  device, 
A  spell  to  soothe  pale  Labor's  heart, 

As  with  the  airs  of  paradise. 


1845.]  CHURCH   OF  THE  ADVENT.  345 

Nor  let  the  influence  rest,  till  all 

The  dear  delights  in  Eden  nursed, 
Recovered  from  their  primal  fall, 

Like  these,  shine  brightly  as  at  first ; 
Till  man  liimsclf,  redeemed  from  stain. 

His  heaven-taught  work  in  Christ  complete. 
And,  tln-ough  one  greater  Man,  regain 

An  entrance  to  the  blissful  seat. 

On  Sunday,  the  1st  of  June,  the  congregation  of  the  Church  of 
the  Advent  took  leave  of  their  upper  room  in  Merrimack  Street, 
which  they  had  occupied  since  the  first  Sunday  in  Advent,  vi'ith  the 
expectation  of  taking  possession  of  their  new  hall  on  tlie  following 
Sunday.  But  in  this  expectation  they  were  disappointed,  as  the 
following  extract  from  the  rector's  record  will  show  :  "  On  Sunday, 
the  15th  of  June,  A.  D.  1845,  the  place  of  worship  was  removed  to 
the  commodious  hall,  in  the  chamber  of  the  building  forming  the 
corner  of  Lowell  and  Causeway  Streets,  the  rector  preaching  the 
first  discourse  from  the  text,  Other  foundation  can  no  man  lay  than 
that  is  laid,  which  is  Jcsns  Christ,  1  Cor.  iii.  11."  Of  this  service  he 
thus  speaks  in  his  next  letter  :  "  Our  hall  was  opened  under  very 
favorable  auspices,  and  all  concerned  seemed  to  be  more  than  sat- 
isfied. It  is  a  fine  room  for  speaking  and  singing,  and  I  have  never 
heard  such  responses  since  I  have  been  in  Boston."  Again,  he 
writes  :  "  As  soon  as  the  other  parts  of  our  building  are  completed, 
we  have  announced  our  purpose  of  commencing  daily  service,  and  have 
every  reason  to  expect  a  fair  attendance  of  devout  worshippers." 

There  is  a  melancholy  gratification  in  recording  such  a  passage 
as  the  following,  from  a  letter  of  June  30  :  "  Mrs.  Prescott  (widow 
of  the  late  Rev.  E.  G.  Prescott)  is  now  on  a  visit  at  Mrs.  Car- 
penter's. It  has  given  me  a  sad  satisfaction  to  receive  from  her 
the  cloak  which  her  husband  wore,  the  gift  of  his  parents,  and  the 
more  to  know  that  this  was  according  to  his  expressed  wishes,  in  a 
will  written  several  years  before  his  death.  Brotherly  and  intimate 
as  our  relations  had  been,  I  did  not  know,  until  since  his  decease, 
with  how  much  truth  it  could  be  said  of  his  affection  for  me,  '  Be- 
hold, how  he  loved  him  !  '  May  it  inspire  me  more  earnestly  to 
covet  the  best  gifts,  —  a  portion  of  his  spirit,  —  and  to  wrap  myself 
as  it  were,  with  his  zeal  like  a  cloak." 

From  this  time,  as  appears  from  frequent  allusions  in  his  corre- 
spondence, the  affairs  of  the  new  parish  passed  on  progressively  and 
happily.  These  and  other  matters  will  be  noted  in  the  order  of 
their  date.  July  7,  after  giving  an  interesting  description  of  the 
celebration  of  the  "  glorious  fourth,"  consisting  in  part  of  "  a  floral 
44 


346  MEMOIR  OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1845. 

procession  of  little  children  through  the  mall,"  he  speaks  thus  hop- 
inghi  of  an  interview  with  the  bishop  :  "  I  had  a  pleasant  visit  from 
the  bishop,  on  the  afternoon  of  the  4th  of  July,  and  have  never 
found  him  more  agreeable.  He  spoke  of  meeting  with  you  in  New 
York,  and  alluded  to  you  in  a  way  very  gratifying  for  a  son  to  hear. 
He  thought  you  had  altered  but  httle  since  he  first  knew  you,  during 
his  connection  with  the  seminary  at  New  Haven.  I  might  say  none 
for  the  worse.  He  introduced  no  debacable  matters,  and  we  agreed 
on  all  points  as  far  as  we  went.  I  shall  not  seek  any  occasion  to 
differ  from  him,  and  hope  that  the  even  tenor  of  my  way  may  not 
be  disturbed."  The  following  passage  in  the  same  letter  is  too 
characteristic  to  be  omitted:  "  Yestej'day  was,  communion  Sunday. 
I  exchanged,  in  the  afternoon,  with  the  rector  of  Christ  Church,  — 
baptizing  a  child,  o/"tw«*sc,  —  and  afterwards  administering  the  com- 
munion, in  private,  to  an  aged  colored  Christian  on  the  point  of 
departure.  It  was  an  edifying  service,  —  how  could  it  be  other- 
wise ?  —  but  the  straitness  of  the  quarters  in  which  these  wretched 
people  live,  and  the  train  of  thirteen  who  communicated  with  him, 
had  almost  given  the  flesh  advantage  over  the  spirit." 

In  a  letter  of  the  14th,  he  gives  the  first  intimation  of  a  practice 
which  was  subsequently  adopted  as  a  general  rule  —  that  of  em- 
ploying, in  their  worship,  the  prose  translation,  instead  of  the  met- 
rical version,  of  the  Psalms :  "  Yesterday  afternoon,  I  delivered  a 
sermon  on  '  speaking  to  yourselves  in  psalms.'  I  believe  that  I 
carried  all  my  congregation  with  me,  and  that  the  Psalter  will  be 
our  psalm  book  exclusively  from  henceforward."  In  the  same  letter 
he  again  alludes  very  pleasantly  to  his  relations  with  the  bishop,  and 
to  his  favorite  subject  of  a  daily  service :  "  The  bishop  continues  to 
be  very  kind  and  attentive  to  me  personally,  and  I  see  no  indications 
of  abatement  of  confidence  in  any  quarter.  Many  of  the  parish  are 
impatient  for  the  commencement  of  daily  service,  but  we  are  obliged 
to  delay  in  consequence  of  the  unfinished  state  of  the  rooms  above 
us,  in  which  the  sound  of  the  axe  and  hammer  is  not  yet  ceased.  I 
do  not  feel  much  anxiety  on  the  score  of  the  additional  labor.  I 
already  spend  an  hour  every  day  in  the  vestry,  which  might  be  far 
more  profitably  spent  in  worship  ;  and  the  size  of  the  room  is  such, 
and  its  adaptation  to  sound  so  fine,  that  it  will  require  scarcely 
any  more  vocal  effort  than  in  common  conversE^tion.  Besides  all 
this,  I  shall  not  be  alone.  The  clergy  will  rally  round  the  standard 
as  soon  as  it  is  set  up,  and  several  are  already  pledged  to  officiate 
regularly,  and  to  stand  in  the  gap  when  emergencies  shall  arise.  In 
the  strength  of  God,  we  shall  try.  I  am  not  sure  that  it  will  not 
be  the  first  attempt  to  revive  the  week-day  service  in  this  city  since 
the  year  1686,  when,  at  the  second  meeting  of  the  members  of  the 
Church  of  England,  it  was  '  agreed,  that  the  prayers  of  the  Church 
be  said  every  Wednesday  and  Friday  of  the  year,  (for  the  present 


1845.]  CHURCH   OF  THE  ADVENT.  347 

in  the  library  chamber  of  the  town  house  in  Boston,)  and  in  the 
summer  season  to  begin  at  seven  of  the  clock  in  the  morning,  and 
in  the  winter  season  at  nine  of  the  clock  in  the  forenoon.'  It  is, 
also,  quite  as  remarkable  a  coincidence  as  many  others  that  are 
chronicled,  that  in  1753,  while  their  church*  was  building,  'the  con- 
gregation requested  and  obtained  leave  to  meet  in  Trinity  Church 
on  Sundays,  at  separate  hours  from  the  congregation  of  that  church, 
and  on  festivals  and  prayer  days  in  Mr.  Croswell's  meeting  house.' 
We  hope  the  Church  of  the  Advent  will  be  as  famous  in  the  annals 
of  the  town  as  Mr.  Croswell's  meeting  house,  in  its  associations 
with  festivals  and  prayer  days." 

One  other  topic  is  introduced  into  his  correspondence  of  this 
month,  which  it  seems  proper  to  notice,  as  an  act  of  justice  to  his 
memory.  The  case  of  Mr.  Washburn's  ordination  attracted  some 
attention  at  the  time ;  and,  in  the  discussion  of  the  subject  in 
the  church  periodicals,  he  may  have  been  placed,  as  a  member  of 
the  standing  committee,  in  a  false  position.  It  is  but  fair,  therefore, 
that  he  should  be  permitted  to  tell  his  own  story.  Under  date  of 
July  21,  he  says,  "As  a  member  of  the  standing  committee,  I  have 
had  my  share  of  excitements.  We  had  a  special  meeting  to  see  if 
we  should  volunteer  any  advice  to  the  bishop  touching  the  delay  of 
Mr.  Washburn's  ordination  at  Newburyport,  which  had  been 
appointed  for  Wednesday.  The  ground  was,  the  use  of  the  prayer 
commendatory  of  a  sick  person  at  the  point  of  departure,  on  the 
occasion  of  General  Jackson's  death,  not  a  little  to  the  astonishment 
of  his  congregation.  His  papers  had  been  already  signed,  and 
were  in  the  hands  of  the  bishop,  who  had  received  an  explanation 
so  far  satisfactory  to  him  as  to  lead  to  the  appointment  for  his  ordina- 
tion, and  no  counsel  was  asked.  I  was  opposed  to  any  action  unless 
it  should  be  solicited,  or,  at  least,  without  any  previous  conference 
with  either  the  bishop  or  the  party  involved  in  the  consequence.  I 
was  overruled,  however,  by  the  rest  of  the  committee,  who  passed 
a  declaration  of  sentiments,  which  I  thought  quite  superfluous,  at 
least,  if  not  questionable.  The  thing  is  done,  howp-  .,  and  I 
wash  my  hands  of  it.  I  fear  the  effects  will  be  miscmevous."  On 
the  •28th,  he  writes,  "  You  will  be  curious  to  hear  the  issue  of  afikirs 
at  Newburyport.  I  am  not  yet  in  possession  of  all  the  particulars. 
But,  as  might  have  been  foreseen,  the  parish  has  been  tlwown  into 
prodigious  excitement.  No  less  than  sixteen  clergymen  had  assem- 
bled to  attend  the  services.  The  bishop  did  not  feel  willing  to  pro- 
ceed with  Mr.  Washburn's  ordination,  under  the  standing  com- 
mittee's interdict ;  and  the  other  two  candidates,  to  avoid  the  invidi- 
ous aspect  of  the  affair,  preferred,  as  did  the  bishop,  to  wait  for 

*  King's  Chapel,  Boston,  which  was  rebuilt,  of  stone,  in  1753. 


348  MEMOIR   OF  ^^nLLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1845. 

another  day.  Indeed,  at  a  meeting-  of  the  vestry  in  the  morning, 
some  inflammatory  resolutions  were  passed  refusing  the  use  of  the 
church  for  the  services,  unless  their  minister  was  ordained.  This, 
of  course,  was  very  irregular  and  contumacious,  but  still  of  signifi- 
cancy,  as  showing  the  indignant  sense  entertained  of  this  officious 
interference  on  the  part  of  the  standing  committee  —  two  of  whom 
are  fortunately,  or  unfortunately,  natives  of  Newhuryport,  and  have, 
perhaps  not  unjustly,  to  shoulder  most  of  the  responsibility.  A. 
petition  has  been  circulated  and  signed  by  almost  all  the  proprietors 
of  the  parish,  urging  the  bishop  to  make  an  appointment  for  the 
ordination  at  an  early  day." 

The  following  passage  will  be  read  with  melancholy  interest,  now 
that  this  burying  ground  has  become  the  place  of  the  contemjilated 
rest  of  his  mortal  remains  :  "  I  was  much  interested  in  the  account 
of  the  exercises  at  the  New  Haven  burial  ground  —  a  spot  rendered 
dear  to  my  heart  by  the  ashes  of  kindred,  and  the  cherished  place, 
D.  V.  of  my  own  final  repose,  while  the  flesh  resteth  in  hope.  I 
regret  that  the  gateway  is  to  be  Egyptian,  if  it  were  only  because 
it  does  not  differ  from  those  which  so  much  annoy  me  here,  with 
tlieir  pagan  symbolism  ;  but  more  especially,  as  ominous  of  the  slight 
hold  which  Christian  architecture,  as  well  as  Christian  association 
generally,  has  upon  the  public  mind.  It  will  have  a  rare  beauty  and 
interest  notwithstanding,  and  I  have  the  warmest  sympathies  with  the 
spirit  that  has  led  to  this  garnishing  of  the  sepulchres  of  the  righteous. 
It  will  be  long  before  the  generations  expiate  the  sacrilege  towards 
the  dust  of  their  fathers,  who  were  buried  on  the  upper  green." 

The  first  Sunday  in  August  appears  to  have  been  a  day  of  some 
note  in  the  annals  of  the  new  church.  This  is  inferred,  not  only 
because  it  is  mentioned  by  the  rector  in  his  journal  and  correspond- 
ence as  an  occasion  of  much  interest,  but  is  also  made  the  subject 
of  a  paragraph  in  one  of  the  daily  newspapers  of  the  city  :  — 

"  Church  of  the  Advent.  The  Rev.  Dr.  Eaton,  formerly 
rector  of  Ciirist  Church,  the  Rev.  IMr.  Croswell,  also  formerly 
rector  of  the  same  church,  and  the  Rev.  Dr.  Jarvis,  formerly  rector 
of  St.  Paul's  Church,  and  the  Rev.  Mr.  Pollard,  of  Nantucket,  all 
officiated  together  on  Sunday  last,  (August  3,)  at  the  administration 
of  the  Lord's  supper  in  the  new  Episcopal  Cluirch  at  the  corner  of 
Lowell  Street  in  this  city.  The  occasion  was  one  of  much  interest 
to  the  frequenters  of  that  place  of  worship,  and  the  friends  of  the 
reverend  clergymen."  —  Boston  Post. 

As  the  time  drew  near  for  the  connnencemeut  of  daily  services  in 
the  new  chapel,  it  was  perceived  that  its  peculiar  location  might 
present  a  serious  obstacle  to  the  enjoyment  of  their  devotions  :  "  Our 


1845.]  CHUliCH   OF   THE   ADVENT.  349 

building,"  he  says,  "  is  not  yet  quite  in  order  for  daily  service,  and 
if  it  had  been,  I  fear  that  we  should  have  an  insurmountable  obstacle 
to  encounter,  in  the  bustle,  and  din,  and  stunning  tide  of  this 
thoroughfare,  or  rather  centre  of  thoroughfares,  on  which  our  chapel 
borders.  A  corner  stand  is  grand  for  business,  but  very  unfortunate 
as  a  retreat  for  devotion.  We  might  as  well  stand  and  pray,  like 
the  Pharisees,  at  the  corners  of  the  streets,  as  to  hope  to  have  our 
voices  heard  over  the  tumult." 

But,  notwithstanding  these  objections,  it  was  resolved  to  try  the 
experiment ;  and  accordingly,  as  the  record  states,  "  On  Monday, 
September  1,  1845,  the  daily  service  was  commenced  for  the  first 
time  in  Boston,  the  Rev.  F.  W.  I.  Pollard,  being  assistant  to  the 
rector."  And,  from  a  letter  of  the  same  date,  the  following  particu- 
lars are  gathered:  "Yesterday,  dear  father,  I  gave  notice  that  1 
purposed,  by  divine  assistance,  to  offer  daily  the  sacrifice  of  morning 
prayer,  at  the  ancient  hour  of  prayer,  being  the  third  hour,  or, 
according  to  our  present  horology,  nine  o'clock.  The  announce- 
ment was  simply  for  the  week,  that  I  might  not  engage  myself  to 
any  extent  beyond  my  ability  to  execute,  and  that  the  time  might 
be  changed,  or  the  service  discontinued  altogether,  if  it  should  be 
deemed  expedient.  The  morning  was  bright  and  auspicious,  and 
there  was  an  encouraging  attendance,  considering  that  the  intention 
was  not  generally  known.  The  weather  being  cool  and  autumnal, 
we  were  able  to  shut  out  the  noise  more  entirely  than  I  dared  to 
hope,  and  the  interruption  was  not  very  serious.  At  times,  the 
rumbling  of  the  carts  served  very  well  for  an  accompaniment,  though 
occasionally,  like  a  heavy  organ,  it  drowned  the  human  voice. 
Spiritually,  I  doubt  not,  the  service  will  be  a  great  blessing,  so  long 
as  we  are  in  earnest,  and  throw  ourselves  into  the  system  with 
simple  boldness,  and  have  faith  to  follow  Christ  on  a  venture.  And, 
physically,  I  beheve  it  will  be  no  disadvantage,  especially  if  I  can 
learn  the  great  lesson  of  saying  prayers  instead  of  preaching  them, 
or  rather  if  I  can  unlearn  the  opposite.  I  had  a  tolerable  trial  of 
ray  strength,  having  had  three  services  yesterday  without  assistance, 
and  being  also  alone  this  morning.  I  am  not  aware  that  I  have 
passed  a  Monday,  for  many  months,  with  so  little  sense  of  fatigue. 
The  brethren  of  the  city  will  be  ready  to  assist  me  whenever  I 
require  it ;  and  as  soon  as  Mr.  Pollard  returns  from  Nantucket,  I 
can  count,  I  think,  upon  his  accepting  a  proposal  from  me  to  become 
my  assistant  for  the  next  three  months.  Long  may  day  unto  day 
continue  to  utter  speech,  and  may  we  soon  be  able  to  add,  that 
'  night  unto  nigiit  showeth  knowledge  ' !  " 

Writing  again  on  the  9th,  and  continuing  the  same  subject,  he 
says,  "  My  expected  assistant  has  not  yet  arrived  from  Nantucket  ; 
and  besides  being  bound  every  day,  not  an  unwilling  victim,  to  the 
horns  of  the  altar,  I  have  had,  for  the  last  two  Sundays,  three  ser- 


350  IMEMOm   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1845. 

vices,  and  all  the  ordinances.  My  health,  happily,  was  never  better, 
and  I  ascribe  the  improvement  in  part  to  the  system.  I  am  per- 
suaded that  the  Church,  if  it  is  to  be  built  up  at  all  now,  must  be  built 
up,  as  at  first  it  was,  with  daily  prayer,  and  that  those  who  would  see 
in  open  vision  the  glory  and  the  consolation  of  Israel,  must  continue, 
like  Simeon,  and  Anna,  and  the  apostles,  daily  with  one  accord  in 
the  temple  ;  and  then  we  may  hope  that  the  Lord  will  add  daily  to 
the  Church  such  as  shall  be  saved."  After  detailing  a  long  list  of 
occasional  services,  and  mentioning  the  constant  attendance  of  the 
venerable  Dr.  Eaton  at  daily  prayer,  he  continues,  "  It  commenced 
silently ;  like  a  little  leaven  it  spreads  apace,  and  the  time,  as  we 
fondly  anticipate,  is  not  distant  when  it  will  pervade  the  wliole  lump. 
The  attendance  yesterday  was  between  thirty  and  forty,  and  is  daily 
increasing." 

From  this  pleasing  theme,  he  turns  to  one  of  peculiar  sadness : 
"  Letters  from  Mr.  Brinley  inform  me  of  the  death  of  his  excellent 
and  loiig-suffering  daughter  Harriet.  She  has  lingered  much 
longer  than  could  have  been  expected,  and  her  death  did  not,  of 
course,  take  them  by  surprise.  But  this  gradual  reduction  of  their 
household,  till  the  departed  are  more  in  number  than  the  living, 
makes  each  bereavement  more  sad  and  the  hearts  of  the  survivors 
more  heavy  :  — 

'  Alas  for  love,  if  thou  wert  all, 
And  nought  beyond,  O  earth ! ' 

Would  that  all  the  invalids  whom  we  have  in  our  hearts  could 
regard  the  prospect  before  them  with  the  unshaken  faith  and  un- 
clouded hope  that  illumined  her  sick  chamber.  Right  dear  in  the 
sight  of  the  Lord  is  the  death  of  his  saints."  He  adds  this  touching 
reflection  :  "  How  sudden  the  transition  !  how  thin  the  partitions  be- 
tween bliss  and  woe  !     On  the  other  side  of  the  way,  E (a  cousin 

of  Miss  Brinley)  is  probably  preparing  for  her  nuptials,  on  the  24th 
instant,  and  the  future  is  full  of  bright  hopes  and  promises.  Happy 
indeed  if  she  realizes  at  last  what  her  deceased  cousin  enjoys;  for  sure 
she  has  entered  into  bliss,  and  hears  the  inexpressive  nuptial  song." 
Having  been  invited  to  attend  this  wedding,  he  left  Boston  on 
the  23d,  was  present  at  the  nuptial  ceremony  on  the  24th,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  New  Haven  in  the  evening.  Here  he  met  his  brother 
from  Albany,  and,  after  a  pleasant  visit  of  a  few  days,  returned  to 
Hartford,  and,  on  the  30th  attended  a  meeting  of  the  Board  of  Fel- 
lows at  Trinity  College,  for  organization  and  business.  In  a  letter 
written  after  this  meeting,  he  speaks  of  the  college  as  requiring 
some  new  impulse  to  redeem  it  from  its  then  unpromising  condition. 
The  following  criticism  may  appear  somewhat  severe,  but  its  jus- 
tice will  not  be  called  in  question  :  «'  I  was  sorry  to  see  such  a  set 
of  portraits  hanging  on  the  walls  of  the  library.     There  is  not  one 


1845.]  CHUECH   OF  THE   ADVENT.  351 

of  tliciii  but  that  is  verily  a  caput  mortuum.,  witliout  a  particle  of 
vitality,  except  Bishop  Seabury,  which  is  indeed  a  live  likeness,  and 
standing  out  gloriously  like-  the  hving  among  the  dead." 

He  returned  to  Boston  on  the  Lst  of  October.  "  Being,"  he  says, 
4'  the  anniversary  of  uiy  wedding  day,  I  resisted  all  temptation  to 
tarry  at  Hartford,  though  obliged  to  spend  most  of  it,  like  John 
Gilj»in,  on  the  road.  Had  I  been  fis  great  a  man  as  he,  I  might 
have  been  as  anxious  to  save  appearances. 

'  Said  John,  it  is  my  wedding  day, 

And  all  the  world  would  stare, 

If  wife  should  dine  at  Edmonton, 

And  I  should  dine  at  Ware.' " 


In  several  of  his  succeeding  letters  he  writes  in  remarkably  good 
spirits  ;  speaks  of  the  health  of  himself  and  family  as  excellent ; 
and  in  all  his  allusions  to  the  affairs  of  his  parish  represents  them 
as  prosperous  and  encouraging.  "  The  daily  service  goes  on  quietly 
at  the  Church  of  the  Advent,  through  sunshine  and  storm  alike,  and 
with  little  deviation  in  the  attendance."  Again,  after  mentioning 
a  number  of  adult  baptisms,  he  says,  "  We  have  the  names  of  some 
twenty  candidates  for  confirmation,  and  the  number  will  probably 
be  increased  before  the  bishop's  visitation.  In  addition  to  one  daily 
service,  we  are  engaged  almost  every  day  with  the  sick,  and  are 
more  exposed  to  interruptions,  in  season  and  out  of  season,  than 
ever  before.  These  are,  however,  among  the  blessed  tokens  that 
our  ministry  is  not  a  sinecure,  and  that  we  are  not  without  signs  of 
life  and  the  divine  presence." 

The  confirmation  above  alluded  to  was  held  on  the  evening  of 
the  Sunday  before  Advent ;  and  some  account  of  it  is  gathered,  first 
from  his  letter  of  November  25,  and  next  from  one  of  the  news- 
papers of  the  day.  "  Our  place  of  worship,"  says  the  letter,  "  was 
thronged  ;  the  music  was  delightful ;  the  congregation  manifesting 
that  c?igagedness  in  the  worship  which  is  so  contagious,  and  distin- 
guishes us  from  any  congregation  in  the  city,  and  seventeen  candidates 
kneeled  around  the  altar.  The  office  was  impressively  performed ; 
and  the  bishop  delivered  an  extemporaneous  address,  which  was  very 
good,  though  it  contained  nothing  either  episcopal  or  distinctive,  of 
course,  not  even  the  slightest  recognition  of  what  was  characteristic  in 
the  rite.  After  all  was  over,  and  the  congregation  had  withdrawn,  he 
proceeded  to  deal  with  the  rector  and  his  assistant,  in  the  spirit  of  one 
who  was  about  to  lay  his  hands  —  I  had  almost  said  violent  hands  — 
upon  an  antagonist;  and  in  a  manner  neither  creditable  nor  con- 
vincing. I  hope  that  we  shall  never  be  obliged  to  listen  to  such  a 
charge  again  from  any  lips ;  and  I  cannot  repeat  it  on  paper.  I 
respectfully,  but  steadily,  repelled  his  imputations  in  a  way  that  gives 


352  IklEMOni   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1845. 

me  no  compunction  to  reflect  upon.  ...  I  have  ahvays  antici- 
pated that  the  simple  exhibition  of  the  Church  as  it  is,  and  a  bending 
of  effbrt  to  revive  the  tone  of  our  pubhc  worship,  so  as  to  give  it  vi- 
tahty,  would,  please  God,  be  quite  irresistible.  And  so  it  has  proved. 
Since  we  began  the  daily  service,  the  attendance  has  been  increasing 
constantly,  and  on  the  Lord's  day  we  iiave  not  a  seat  to  spare.  Every 
week  inquirers  are  coming  to  know  what  they  shall  do  ;  and  the 
Lord  is  adding  daily  to  the  Church  such,  we  trust,  as  shall  be  saved. 
Meanwhile  we  need  great  grace  and  prudence  ;  for  we  have  violent 
opposition  to  encounter  ;  though  nothing  can  harm  us,  if  we  do  not 
harm  ourselves.  We  adhere  most  tenaciously  to  the  rubric,  and  we 
go  together  like  one  man." 

The  newspaper  account  of  the  transaction  is  in  these  words :  — 

"  The  Church  of  the  Advent.  The  impressive  ordinance 
of  confirmation  was  administered  by  Bishop  Eastburn,  on  Sunday 
evening  last,  at  the  Church  of  the  Advent,  to  seventeen  persons. 

"  We  were  agreeably  surprised  both  at  the  number  of  the  can- 
didates, and  the  unusual  solemnity  of  the  congregation ;  and  we 
could  not  help  considering  that  the  general  tone  of  the  arrangements 
—  the  genius  of  the  place  —  were  the  indicia  of  a  promising  future. 
It  was  a  pleasing  thing  to  see  the  youngest  church  of  the  diocese 
receive  its  appointed  head  with  such  cordial  welcome  ;  to  see  its 
doors  and  its  aisles  thronging"  with  worshippers,  and  its  chancel  sur- 
rounded with  those  who  were  about  to  enroll  themselves  under  the 
banner  of  the  Cross.  For  the  first  time  the  bishop  knelt  at  its  newly- 
raised  altar  ;  for  the  first  time  he  laid  his  hands  upon  its  new  disci- 
ples ;   for  the  first  time  he  invoked  a  blessing  upon  its  sacred  walls. 

"  It  must  be  a  satisfaction  to  this  prelate  to  observe,  with  the 
actual  extent  of  the  city,  the  visible  growth  of  the  Church  ;  and 
that,  while  we  live  in  an  age  in  which  the  hand  of  the  spoiler  is  busy 
in  stripping  life  of  its  refinements,  and  religion  of  its  God-appointed 
aids,  there  yet  exists  a  temple  where  the  spirit  of  past  centuries 
may  take  refuge  —  an  altar  whereon  it  may  burn  the  incense  of  its 
sacrifice.  The  Churchman  must  hail  the  advent  of  this  star  in  our 
religious  horizon  as  the  omen  of  still  better  things  ;  and  though  now 
its  piu'e  glimmerings  are  scarce  observed  amid  the  light  of  more 
imposing  bodies,  yet  we  hope  it  will  continue  to  shine  on  with  that 
steady  and  mild  glory,  which  can  only  be  obscured  by  the  advent  of 
the  Sun  it  worships." 

These  particulars,  though  sufiiciently  interesting  in  themselves, 
derive  an  additional  importance  from  the  fact  that  tlie  scene  in  the 
Church  of  the  Advent,  after  the  confirmation,  was  indicative  of  the 
bitter  and  persecuting  spirit  manifested  in  the  bishop's  subsequent 
proceedings,  and  was  indeed  the  incipient  step  in  a  series  of  high- 


1845.]  CHURCH   OF  THE   ADVENT.  353 

handed  and  oppressive  measures,  without  a  parallel  in  the  annals  of 
the  church  in  this  country.  But  before  a  detailed  account  is  given 
of  these  measures,  it  seems  proper  to  place  on  record  the  following 
pa][ier,  left  in  the  handwriting  and  under  the  signature  of  the  rector, 
and  dated  but  a  few  days  after  the  transaction,  and  while  all  the 
circumstances  must  have  been  fresh  in  his  memory. 

Minutes  of  the  Conversation  between  the  Right  Rev.  Bishop  Eastburn 
and  the  Rev.  3Iessrs.  Croswell  and  Pollard,  at  the  Church  of 
the  Advent,  in  Boston,  Sunday  evening,  November  23,  A.  D.  1845. 

The  Right  Rev.  the  Bishop  of  the  diocese  visited  the  Church 
of  the  Advent,  by  appointment,  for  the  purpose  of  administering 
confirmation,  on  Sunday  evening,  November  23,  1845.  The  rector 
and  his  assistant  were  in  the  robing  room  when  the  bishop  arrived. 
The  usual  civilities  were  exchanged,  and  there  was  no  apparent 
want  of  courtesy  or  good  will  on  the  part  of  the  bishop.  As  Mr. 
Pollard  was  in  his  cassock,  the  bishop  inquired  whether  he  would 
conduct  the  service.  I  said  that  I  proposed  to  have  him  read  the 
lesson.  To  this  no  objection  was  made.  The  bishop  then  selected 
the  psalmody,  robed  himself  with  my  assistance,  requested  me  to 
read  the  preface  in  the  confirmation  office,  and  to  direct  the  can- 
didates to  come  forward,  but  made  no  inquiry,  that  I  remember, 
either  as  to  their  number  or  character,  or  with  reference  to  the  state 
of  the  parish.  On  entering  the  chancel,  the  bishop  went  to  the  right 
end  of  the  holy  table,  and  I  offered  evening  prayer  at  the  other. 
The  Rev.  Mr.  Pollard,  who  was  on  the  same  side  of  the  chancel 
with  myself,  —  and  whose  duty  it  was  to  read  the  lesson  for  the 
evening  from  the  lectern,  —  knelt  down  during  the  prayers  with  his 
face  towards  the  corner  of  the  holy  table.  The  chapel  was  crowded, 
and  the  air  was  close  and  oppressive.  The  interest  in  the  services 
was  somewhat  exciting  to  me,  and,  as  I  supposed  at  the  time,  affected 
the  bishop  in  the  same  way.  Seventeen  candidates  were  presented, 
all  of  them  of  mature  years ;  and  all  of  them  were,  at  the  time,  or 
have  since  become,  communicants.  There  was  no  sermon.  In  the 
place  of  it,  the  bishop,  after  the  confirmation,  returned  to  the  right 
of  the  holy  table,  and,  standing  with  his  back  nearly  against  the 
wall,  delivered  an  extemporaneous  address.  There  was  a  hurry  and 
agitation  of  manner  which  I  attributed,  at  the  time,  to  interest  in 
the  duty  before  him.  An  unfortunate  transposition  of  words 
occurred,  of  which  he  did  not  seem  to  be  aware,  and  which  it  is 
painful  to  record.  I  refer  to  his  speaking  of  the  Lamb  of  God  who 
"  washed  us  from  our  blood  in  his  own  sins."  After  the  congrega- 
tion had  begun  to  retire,  I  went  over  to  the  side  of  the  chancel, 
where  the  bishop  was  standing  and  wiping  the  perspnation  fjom  his 
face,  and  made  some  allusion  to  the  heat.  I  said  that  the  room  had 
45 


354  MEMOIR   OF  IVTLLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1845. 

been  often  over-crowded,  and  that  we  were  suffering  for  want  of  a 
church.  To  this  he  repUed  by  an  impatient  waving  of  his  hand 
towards  the  windows,  as  if  they  should  have  been  further  let  down. 
After  the  aisles  were  further  cleared,  I  told  the  bishop  that  we  could 
then  get  to  the  robing  room  at  the  opposite  end,  if  he  wished.  He 
said  that  he  did  not  hke  to  expose  himself  to  a  change  of  air  until 
he  was  cooler,  or  something  to  that  effect.  Presently  he  said,  with 
an  abruptness  and  severity  of  manner  that  startled  me,  "  Mr.  Pol- 
lard, what  did  you  say  Saint  Titus  for  ?  Why  can't  you  say  Titus, 
as  every  body  else  does  1  "  Mr.  Pollard  said  he  did  not  know 
but  others  said  as  he  did.  Bishop.  "  No,  sir,  never.  The  apostles 
are  called  saints,  and  no  others.  We  don't  say  Saint  Mary."  This 
may  not  be  the  precise  form  of  expression,  and  more  was  said ;  but 
this  was  the  idea  conveyed.  "  And  why  do  you  kneel  in  that  way, 
half  a  mile  off  from  the  table  ?  I  have  spoken  to  you  often 
enough  about  these  mummeries,  at  Nantucket.  These  things  give 
pious  people  great  offence."  P.  "  How  would  you  have  me  kneel, 
sir  1  "  "  Turn  to  your  chair,  and  kneel  there."  P.  "  I  do  but 
conform  to  the  usage  of  the  place."  Bishop.  "  No,  you  don't ;  Mr. 
Croswell  did  not  kneel  in  that  way."  I  then  said,  "  Bishop,  Mr. 
P.  kneels  according  to  our  ordinary  usage.  When  a  third  clergy- 
man is  present,  and  prefers  to  take  one  end  of  the  altar,  for  symme- 
try's sake,  I  generally  take  the  other."  The  bishop  expressed  great 
surprise,  as  if  he  had  heard  of  this  for  the  first  time.*  "  Mr.  Cros- 
well, I  am  very  much  surprised  at  this.  I  should  not  have  expected 
it  of  you.  What  is  the  use  and  meaning  of  it  ?  Why  kneel  down 
half  a  mile  off,  and  not  come  up  at  once  to  the  table  1  I  can  under- 
stand why  a  Romish  priest  should  do  so.  The  host  is  there.  But 
what  have  we  on  the  table  to  worship  V  I  spoke  of  my  conviction 
that  our  method  ministered  to  reverence.  Bishop.  "  I  think  as  much 
of  reverence  as  any  one,  but  I  abhor  superstition  !  "  I  said,  "  Bishop, 
Mrs.  Barbauld  tells  us,  that  there  is  a  class  of  persons  who  have  a 
superstitious  dread  of  superstition."  Without  noticing  my  reply,  the 
bishop  went  on  in  a  rapid  and  disconnected  way  to  allude  to  the 
danger  of  conformity  to  Romish  usages,  —  of  the  consequences  of 
these  innovations  in  England,  —  of  Mr.  Newman's  apostasy.  I 
assured  him  that  I  had  no  more  sympathies  with  Romanism  than 
himself.  He  spoke  of  the  English  country  churches,  and  King's 
Chapel  in  this  city,  as  in  contrast  with  ours.  I  observed  that  our 
little  hall  was  hardly  to  be  compared  with  his  own  church,  or  any 
others ;  but  I  thought  that  on  comparison  with  places  of  worship  of 
the  same  size,  I  knew  of  none  that  was  better  arranged,  or  where  he 

*  A  clergyman  of  the  city  has  since  told  me  that  he  had  explained  by  word 
and  attitude  to  the  bishop,  the  very  night  before,  in  reply  to  his  very  par- 
ticular inquuies,  our  precise  manner  of  conducting  the  service,  and  place  and 
mode  of  luieeiing. 


1845.]  CHURCH   OF  THE   ADVENT.  355 

himself  appeared  to  better  advantage  in  his  ministrations.  He 
interrupted  me  to  say,  that  at  East  Boston,  where  he  had  officiated 
the  Sunday  evening  previous,  I  should  be  astonished  to  see  how  easy  it 
was  to  give  a  room,  which  was  merely  a  long  narrow  store,  a  truly 
ecclesiastical  air.  They  had  there  pulpit,  desk,  and  communion 
table,  although  they  had  far  less  room  than  we  had.  I  told  him 
that  I  had  been  much  interested  in  that  enterprise,  had  officiated 
there  twice,  and  administered  the  communion  for  the  first  time,  but 
could  not  conceal  my  surprise  that  he  should  suggest  it  as  a  model ; 
that  there  were  three  structures  in  the  chancel  on  the  same  level, 
looking  to  a  stranger  like  three  little  red  altars ;  that  the  only  other 
arrangement,  like  that  of  the  Church  of  the  Messiah,  seemed  to  be  a 
sort  of  conference-room  desk  for  prayer  and  preaching,  and  a  little 
shelf  projecting  as  the  holy  table.  The  bishop  alluded  to  our  use  of 
the  Psalter,  in  the  place  of  the  Psalms  in  metre,  and  did  not  see  how  I 
could  reconcile  it  with  the  way  in  which  the  General  Convention 
had  set  forth  the  latter.  I  told  him,  as  I  had  told  him  at  a  former 
interview,  that  they  were  permitted,  not  required  to  be  used,  and  that, 
if  we  did  not  choose  to  avail  ourselves  of  that  permission,  we  were  at 
liberty  to  fall  back  upon  the  usage  of  the  universal  church.  He  said 
that,  upon  this  principle,  he  did  not  see  why  we  might  not  use  Watts,  or 
the  Rippon  Collection.  I  told  him  that  I  thought  not,  as  I  was  not 
aware  that  these  had  ever  been  in  use  by  the  Holy  Church  Universal. 
I  said  tliat  I  thought  I  could  show  him  an  expression  of  opinion  from 
Bishop  Griswold,  which  did  not  differ  greatly  from  mine.  He  re- 
plied, "  Well,  when  the  House  of  Bishops  expresses  an  opinion,  it  will 
be  time  enough  to  use  it  as  authority,"  or  language  conveying  some 
such  impression.  The  bishop  called  attention  to  our  large  cross, 
candlesticks,  shelf,  &c.,  as  indicative  of  affinities  with  Rome.  "  If 
an  Irishman  were  to  come  in  here,"  said  he,  "  and  see  that  cross,  he 
would  kneel  down  to  it  at  once,  in  the  aisle.  He  would  think  that 
he  was  in  a  Roman  Catholic  chapel.  It  looks  like  one."  I  said  that 
I  thought,  without  the  "  Roman,"  his  remark  was  true.  "  It  cer- 
tainly did  look  like  a  Catholic  Chapel."  The  bishop  said,  in  the 
course  of  his  remarks,  "  that  practices  like  these  had  brought  the 
parish  in  Nantucket  to  ruin."  When  we  withdrew  to  the  vestry, 
Mr.  Pollard,  who  liad  maintained  silence  since  the  opening  of  the 
conversation,  said,  "  Sir,  you  have  charged  that  I  brought  the  parish  in 
Nantucket  to  ruin.  I  protest  against  such  a  statement.  I  refer  to  the 
statistics  of  the  parish,  in  the  journals  of  the  convention,  to  show  that  it 
was  spiritually  flourishing  during  the  whole  period  of  my  ministry." 
"  Statistics,"  the  bishop  said,  "  were  not  always  to  be  relied  upon." 
"  The  debt  of  the  church,"  said  Mr.  Pollard,  "  was  not  incurred 
by  me.  I  had  no  responsibility  for  it."  I  observed,  that  it  was  gen- 
erally known  that  Mr.  Marcus  had  involved  the  parish  in  its  pecu- 
niary embarrassment  long  before  Mr.  Pollard's  connection  with 


356  MEMOm  OF  ^VILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1845. 

it.  The  bishop  said  that,  "  the  great  obstacle  to  the  payment  of 
these  debts  was  the  dissatisfaction  in  the  diocese  with  the  proceed- 
ings of  Mr.  Pollard,  —  that  Mr.  Jenks  was  well  satisfied  of  this 
now."  Mr.  Pollard  observed,  that  he  must  then  have  changed  his 
opinion  very  much  within  a  short  time.  The  bishop  then  being 
ready  to  leave,  I  was  unwilling  to  part  with  him  thus,  on  an  occasion 
from  which  I  had  anticipated  so  much  satisfaction.  I  said,  "  Bishop, 
I  thank  you  for  your  services  this  evening,  which  have  afforded  us 
great  gratification."  To  tliis  he  responded,  as  we  shook  hands,  — 
but  with  some  hesitation,  —  "  Well,  I  hope  God  will  prosper  you." 
This  was  the  substance  of  our  conversatioji  on  that  evening, 
when  OUT  joy  was  suddenly  turned  into  heaviness.  I  do  not  pre- 
tend to  exactness,  but  as  I  am  enabled  to  recall  it,  after  the  interval 
which  has  since  occurred.  Portions  of  it  are  indelibly  impressed 
on  my  mind,  never  to  be  obliterated.  Other  parts  are  less  distinctly 
remembered.  The  bishop's  remarks  were  desultory  and  uncon- 
nected, and  made  apparently  under  strong  excitement ;  and  I  was 
much  agitated  and  disturbed  at  the  time.  I  trust  that  I  have  noth- 
ing extenuated,  or  set  down  aught  in  malice.  I  have  requested  Mr. 
Pollard  to  write  out  a  statement  this  day,  independently  of  mine, 
that  by  the  mouth  of  two  witnesses  every  word  may  be  established. 
There  were  other  bystanders  whom  I  could  name,  who  heard  the 
opening  of  the  conversation,  and  observed  the  manner  of  the  bishop. 

W.  CROSWELL. 

P.  S.  Having  understood  that  it  had  been  currently  reported 
that  the  bishop  had,  before  this  visit,  given  me  admonition  with 
reference  to  our  attitudes  and  arrangements  at  the  Church  of  the 
Advent,  I  take  this  opportunity  of  correcting  this  impression.  I  had 
never  heard  from  the  bishop  one  word,  directly  or  indirectly,  on 
any  of  the  matters  alluded  to  in  his  pastoral  letter  to  the  clergy.  It 
is  true,  that  on  one  occasion  he  had  spoken  to  me  about  wearing 
the  surplice  in  preaching,  and  the  use  of  the  Psalter.  He  appeared, 
however,  to  be  satisfied  with  my  reasons  for  not  changing  my  dress, 
and,  indeed,  said  that  he  was  disposed  to  lay  little  stress  upon  it.* 
I  stated,  at  that  time,  my  objection  to  the  use  of  the  Selections  of 
Psalms  set  forth  in  1832.  The  bishop  told  me,  that  if  I  did  not 
like  to  use  that  selection,  I  was  at  liberty  to  use  the  version  previ- 
ously set  forth,  and  which  was  still  retained  in  his  own  parish, 
(Trinity  Church.)  But  I  humbly  question  whether  there  be  any 
warrant  whatever  for  the  practice,  and  whether  the  last  metre  version 
does  not  supersede  all  the  preceding  ones.  On  this  subject,  the 
bishop's  request  at  parting  was,  that  I  would  consult  with  my  vestry, 


*  The  bishop  preached  himself  in  the  surpUce  from  the  desk,  every  Friday 
during  the  last  season  of  Lent. 


1845.]  CHURCH   OF  THE  ADVENT.  357 

which  I  did  accordingly  ;  and  he  was  careful  to  premise  that  I  was 
not  to  regard  what  he  then  said  as  an  official  expression  of  ojjinion. 
This  is  the  only  time  that  the  bishop  ever  exchanged  a  word  with 
me  on  the  subject  in  question. 

W.  CROSWELL,  Rector. 

This  first  step  having  been  taken,  the  bishop  now  seemed  ready 
to  pursue  the  rector  of  the  Church  of  the  Advent  in  a  manner  cal- 
culated, at  least,  if  not  designed,  to  effect  the  ruin  of  his  reputation 
and  influence  as  a  Christian  minister.  Accordingly,  the  following 
extraordinary  paper  appeared  in  the  bishop's  official  organ,  the  Chris- 
tian Witness,  of  the  5th  of  December,  and,  being  issued  in  large 
numbers,  was  circulated  throughout  the  country  :  — 

To  THE  Clergy  of  the  Diocese  of  Massachusetts. 

Reverend  and  dear  Brethren :  A  deep  sense  of  the  responsibility 
attached  to  my  office,  as  the  chief  pastor  of  this  portion  of  our 
common  fold,  has  constrained  me  to  address  you  on  a  subject,  in  re- 
gard to  which  I  would  fain,  if  duty  would  have  permitted,  have  re- 
mained silent. 

It  is  already  known  to  you,  that,  towards  the  close  of  the  last 
year,  a  parish  was  incorporated  in  the  north-western  part  of  this  city, 
under  the  name  of  the  Church  of  the  Advent.  Its  commencement  af- 
forded me  sincere  pleasure  ;  and  having  been  begun  with  the  avowed 
intention,  on  the  part  of  the  respectable  persons  engaged  in  it,  of  es- 
tablishing a  church  with  free  sittings,  I  commended  it  to  the  liberal 
aid  of  the  Episcopalians  of  Boston.  On  the  evening  of  Sunday,  the 
23d  of  last  month,  according  to  previous  appointment,  I  visited  the 
temporary  place  of  worship  of  this  parish,  for  the  purpose  of  ad- 
ministering the  apostolic  rite  of  confirmation  ;  and  there  observed, 
to  my  inexpressible  grief  and  pain,  various  offensive  innovations 
upon  the  ancient  usage  of  our  church.  In  the  form  of  the  com- 
munion table  ;  in  the  decorations  of  golden  candlesticks,  and  of  a 
large  wooden  cross,  by  which  it  is  surmounted ;  and  in  the  postures 
used  in  front  of  it  by  the  assistant  minister,  who,  as  I  learned  from 
the  rector,  was  only  conforming  to  the  constant  practice  of  the  latter 
on  all  occasions  except  the  service  of  that  evening,  I  perceived, 
with  sorrow,  superstitious  puerilities  of  the  same  description  with 
those  wliich  already,  in  the  case  of  another  parish  church  of  this 
diocese,  had  called  forth  a  public  expression  of  disapprobation,  first 
from  my  revered  predecessor,  now  resting  from  his  labors,  and  sub- 
sequently from  myself  in  the  address  to  the  convention  of  1844. 

I  feel,  my  reverend  brethren,  that  I  should  be  guilty  of  a  dere- 
liction of  plain  duty,  were  I  not  to  express,  in  this  public  manner, 
my  utter  and  unqualified  condemnation  of  these  practices,  carried 
on  in  the  principal  city  of  the  diocese,  and  under  my  own  immediate 


358  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL,  [1845. 

eye.  Were  these  novelties  nothing  more  than  childish,  they  would 
be  on  that  account  sufficiently  objectionable  to  call  forth  my  censure  ; 
for  it  certainly  must  be  a  fit  subject  of  rebuke,  that  there  should  be 
found  a  disposition  among  any  of  the  clergy  to  abandon,  in  their 
mode  of  conducting  divine  service,  that  masculine  simplicity  and 
dignity  by  which  our  beloved  and  venerable  Church,  both  here  and 
in  England,  has  been  so  long  and  so  justly  distinguished.  But  chiefly 
do  I  condemn  these  innovations  upon  established  custom,  because 
of  their  pointed  and  offensive  resemblance  to  the  usages  of  that  idol- 
atrous papal  communion  against  which  our  Prayer  Book  so  strongly 
protests ;  and  because,  where  a  communion  table  is  fitted  up  like  a 
Romish  altar,  and  certain  postures  are  used  by  the  clergy  indicative 
of  reverence  towards  that  altar,  the  certain  effect  of  such  a  specta- 
cle is,  to  produce  gradually  among  the  congregation  those  very  cor- 
ruptions in  regard  to  the  sacrament  of  the  Lord's  supper  from  which, 
by  the  good  providence  of  God,  we  have  been  so  graciously  deliv- 
ered. Those  who  are  familiarized,  by  the  officiating  iminister,  with 
the  forms  of  error,  will  fall,  by  an  imperceptible  but  sure  process, 
into  error  itself;  and  thus  our  people  will  be  led,  by  the  very  ser- 
vices in  which  they  engage  while  actually  within  the  bosom  of  our 
own  Protestant  Church,  into  doctrinal  departures  of  the  most  griev- 
ous and  vital  character.  And,  in  addition  to  these  considerations,  I 
will  not  dissemble  the  pain  which  such  practices  give  me  on  another 
account  —  namely,  the  ridicule  and  contempt  to  which  they  expose 
the  Church  of  our  affections  from  all  sensible  and  enlightened  per- 
sons of  other  Christian  bodies. 

In  view  of  the  dangers  above  stated,  and  considering  this  sub- 
ject as  far  from  being  a  mere  matter  of  taste  and  fancy,  about  which 
men  may  safely  differ,  I  have  already  privately  remonstrated  against 
the  novelties  adopted  in  the  Church  of  the  Advent,  and  have  ex- 
pressed my  views,  as  opportunity  offered,  to  various  individuals.  But 
knowing  that  this  mode  of  signifying  disapprobation  must,  of  neces- 
sity, be  limited  in  the  extent  to  which  it  reaches,  and  fearing  lest  my 
supposed  silence  should,  in  any  part  of  this  diocese,  be  construed 
into  acquiescence  in  tilings  which  I  condemn,  and  which  I  regard  as 
pregnant  with  evil,  I  embrace  the  present  method  of  letting  my  sen- 
timents be  more  widely  known. 

It  is  a  pleasure  to  me  to  feel  well  assured,  that  with  the  usages 
referred  to,  and  with  the  unsound  and  unchurch-like  theology  to 
which  they  belong,  a  great  majority  of  the  clergy  over  whom  God 
has  given  me  the  oversight  have  no  sympathy.  But  others  are  con- 
stantly entering  our  ranks,  and  may  need,  especially  the  younger 
of  them,  to  be  warned  against  the  imitation  of  such  examples. 
Whether  the  course  adopted  in  the  parish  referred  to  will  be  con- 
tinued or  not,  it  is  beyond  my  ability  to  conjecture  ;  but,  however  this 
may  be,  I  shall  have  the   satisfaction  of  feeling  that  I  am  clear  of 


1845.]  CHURCH   OF  THE   ADVENT.  359 

the  responsibility  of  being  a  silent  spectator  of  irregularities,  de- 
grading to  the  character  of  our  Church,  and  perilous  to  the  souls 
of  our  people. 

That   your  hearts'  desire,  my  reverend  brethren,   in  your  high 
and  holy  calling,  may  be    to   set   forth  the   unsearchable  riches  of 
Christ  to  a  world  lying  in  sin  and  death,  is  the  prayer  of 
Your  affectionate  diocesan, 

MANTON   EASTBURN. 
Boston,  December  2,  1845. 

This  publication,  as  might  have  been  expected,  produced  the  most 
intense  excitement,  not  only  in  Boston  and  vicinity,  but  in  every 
place  where  the  paper  had  been  sent.  The  wardens  and  vestry  of  the 
Church  of  the  Advent  immediately  assembled,  and  expressed  their 
deep  sense  of  the  wrong  which  had  been  thus  inflicted  on  their  rec- 
tor and  the  church  in  the  following  preamble  and  resolutions:  — 


At  a  meeting  of  the  wardens  and  vestry  of  the  Church  of  the  Advent, 
held  December  5,  1845,  the  following  preamble  and  resolutions  were 
unanimously  adopted :  — 

Whereas  there  appeared,  in  the  Christian  Witness  of  Decem- 
ber 5,  a  letter  from  the  right  reverend  the  bishop  of  this  diocese,  in 
which  the  arrangements  made  by  us  for  divine  service  in  our  chapel 
and  the  mode  of  conducting  it  are  severely  censured  and  denounced 
to  the  public  as  "  offensive,"  "  superstitious,"  and  "  degrading  to  the 
character  of  our  Church  and  perilous  to  the  souls  of  our  people,"  we 
have  thought  it  our  duty  to  give  the  subject  matter  of  the  letter  a 
respectful  consideration,  although  it  is  addressed  neither  to  us  nor 
to  our  rector,  and  our  attention  has  never  been  officially  called  to  it. 
And  although  no  request  or  representation  has  been  made  to  us  by 
our  bishop  on  this  subject,  and  we  are  not  called  upon  to  take 
any  action  or  express  any  determination  thereupon,  yet  it  may  be 
expedient  to  record  our  reasons  for  what  we  have  done,  and  our 
feelings  as  to  the  same  :  therefore,  by  the  wardens  and  vestry  of 
the  parish  of  the  Advent,  it  is  unanimously 

Resolved,  T^iat  it  is  with  surprise  and  regret  we  learn  that  our 
bishop  has  thought  proper  to  denounce,  in  this  public  manner,  the 
arrangements  of  our  chapel,  and  the  conduct  of  worship  there,  and 
especially  that  he  has  done  so  without  having  addressed  to  us  any 
communication  upon  the  subject,  or  having  called  our  attention  to  it, 
either  as  a  body  or  as  individi>als. 

Resolved,  That  we  have  carefully  considered  so  much  of  this 
letter  as  touches  upon  our  province  and  duties,  to  wit,  the  furniture 
and  arrangements  of  the  chapel,  and  do  not  find  any  thing  there  al- 
luded to  by  our  bishop,  except  the  communion  table,  the  cross,  and 


360  MEMOm  OF  WILLIAM    CROSWELL.  [1845. 

the  candlesticks,  by  which  the  chancel  is  lighted  in  the  evening  ;  and 
that,  as  to  these,  we  can  see  no  just  cause  of  complaint. 

Resolved,  That,  in  placing  a  single  cross  in  the  window  of  the 
chancel  behind  the  altar,  we  believe  we  have  introduced  no  "  offen- 
sive innovations  upon  the  ancient  usage  of  our  Church,"  but  have  the 
example  of  a  multitude  of  churches  in  England,  and  an  increasing 
number  in  our  own  country.  That  it  is  hardly  for  us  to  enter  upon 
the  defence  of  a  usage  so  ancient,  sacred,  and  continuous. 

Resolved,  That  in  the  matter  of  the  communion  table,  or  altar, 
we  can  see  no  cause  for  censure,  or  even  for  scrupulous  doubt.  It 
is  a  simple  movable  table,  of  pine  wood,  standing  upon  four  legs, 
occupying  the  usual  place,  covered  with  a  plain  crimson  cloth,  having 
no  resemblance  to  the  altars  used  in  Roman  Catholic  churches,  and 
differing  in  no  respect  from  those  in  general  use  among  us,  unless  it 
be  in  having  a  small  shelf  on  the  side  next  the  wall,  which  we  sup- 
pose is  immaterial,  as  it  is  believed  that  the  same  may  be  seen  in 
some  other  churches,  where  it  has  remained  without  objection.  In 
fact,  so  far  is  this,  in  our  opinion,  from  tending  to  superstitious  prac- 
tices, that  we  have  thought  it  might  rather  be  liable  to  the  objection 
of  being  too  much  like  the  table  of  common  household  furniture, 
to  meet  the  requirements  of  the  holy  table  and  altar,  which  the 
Prayer  Book  teaches  us  to  consider  it. 

Resolved,  That  as  candles  have  never  been  burned  in  our  chapel, 
except  during  service  at  night,  for  the  purpose  of  lighting  the  chan- 
cel, (as  on  the  occasion  of  the  confirmation  referred  to  in  the  letter,) 
we  presume  the  bishop's  objection  can  only  be  to  the  use  of  the 
candlesticks  upon  the  altar  instead  of  some  other  mode  of  lighting 
the  chancel.  That  when  the  chapel  was  furnished,  we  deliberately 
considered  the  different  modes  of  lighting  the  chancel,  and  were 
unanimously  of  opinion  that  candlesticks  were  more  appropriate 
than  the  modern  fashions  of  gas  fixtures  or  globe  lamps,  as  being 
more  scriptural  and  ecclesiastical,  more  significant,  more  consonant 
with  the  feelings  of  a  worshipper,  and  less  liable  to  mixed  and  sec- 
ular associations.  That  we  are  informed  that,  on  this  point,  we 
have  the  support  of  an  existing  rubric  and  a  not  unfrequent  practice 
of  the  Church  of  England,  and  the  example  of  churches  in  this 
country  and  this  diocese,  where  candlesticks  have  b^gn  used  in  this 
way  for  years,  without  objection  or  remark.  That  we  have  recon- 
sidered this  subject  since  the  letter  has  appeared,  and  cannot  but 
believe  that  the  substitution  of  either  of  the  other  modes  of  lighting 
the  chancel  for  the  four  candlesticks  now  in  use  would  be  repulsive 
to  the  feelings  of  the  congregation,  and  aiding  in  the  deplorable  in- 
troduction of  novel,  secular,  and  uncanonical  decorations  into  sacred 
places. 

Resolved,  That  although  the  position  our  minister  may  be  led 
to  take,  when  engaged  in  an  act  of  worship,  is  not  within  our  super- 


1815.]  CHURCH   OF  THE  ADVENT  361 

intendence,  yet  we  cannot  but  record  our  regret  at  the  maimer  in 
wliicli  tlic  letter  speaks  on  that  subject.  That  the  custom  lias  been 
uniform,  from  the  first  opening  of  our  chapel,  for  the  minister,  in  the 
devotional  parts  of  the  service,  to  turn  his  face  towards  the  holy  table, 
wlHither  kneeling  at  its  side  or  more  in  front,  and  that  we  have  never 
known  any  other  "  postures  used  "  in  these  services  than  that  of  sim- 
ple kneeling,  as  required  by  the  rubric.  That  this  mode  is  congen- 
ial with  our  own  feelings  and  sense  of  the  proprieties  of  public 
worship.  That  we  know  it  to  be  grateful  to  the  worshippers  at  the 
chapel.  That,  so  far  from  giving  offence,  we  have  found  that  not 
only  the  stated  worshippers,  but  strangers,  whether  of  the  Church 
or  of  other  religious  bodies,  have  frequently  expressed  their  sense  of 
its  fitness  and  solemnity.  That  it  is  of  material  aid,  as  we  believe, 
in  abstracting  the  mind  and  centring  it  upon  the  divine  worship. 
That  although  it  is  not  for  us  to  decide  upon  rubrics  intended  for 
the  direction  of  the  clergy,  yet  we  may  say,  that  we  understand 
them  to  be  constructed  upon  the  supposition  that  the  minister  will 
face  in  the  same  way  with  the  people  when  engaged  with  them  in  the 
same  acts  of  devotion  ;  "  turning  towards  the  people  "  when  he  ad- 
dresses himself  to  them,  as  in  reading  Holy  Scripture,  the  sermon, 
and  the  like.  That,  as  our  congregation  has  become  habituated  and 
attached  to  this  mode  of  worship,  (some  of  them  having  thus  first 
learned  the  Church,)  we  should  feel  regret  at  having  it  abandoned, 
independently  of  its  general  propriety. 

Resolved,  That,  taking  a  general  view  of  this  subject,  we  believe, 
and  have  frequently  heard  it  said,  that  the  arrangements  of  the 
chapel  are  simple  and  consistent ;  and  we  know  that  the  mode  of 
conducting  the  worship  has  called  forth  an  interest  and  engagedness 
in  the  service  on  the  part  of  the  congregation  which  is  most  encour- 
aging to  both  priest  and  people. 

Resolved,  That  inasmuch  as  our  bishop,  in  his  letter,  has  publicly 
spoken  of  the  practices  of  our  rector  as  "  superstitious,"  and  "  pue- 
rile," and  has  charged  him  with  "  exposing  the  church  to  ridicule  and 
contempt,"  and  "  degrading  its  character  and  perilling  the  souls  of 
the  people,"  we  cannot  but  record,  with  deference,  but  decidedly,  our 
convictions  to  the  contrary,  and  our  solemn  protest  against  the  man- 
ner of  this  condemnation.  We  cannot  express  our  sense  of  his 
many  excellences,  of  the  untiring  and  self-sacrificing  efforts  he  daily 
makes  for  the  good  of  his  people  and  the  poor  of  the  neighborhood, 
of  his  dignity  and  simplicity  in  conducting  divine  service,  and  our 
obligations  to  him  for  liis  solemn  and  affecting  instructions.  That 
his  labors  have  met  with  great  success  in  building  up  the  parish, 
and,  we  believe,  in  the  spiritual  growth  and  comfort  of  many  that 
are  under  his  charge.  That  we  cordially  sympathize  with  him  in 
the  efforts  he  is  making,  by  the  daily  service,  the  observance  of  holy 
days,  a  regular  offertory,  the  use  of  free  sittings,  the  introduction  of 
46 


362  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROS^^LL.  [184o 

simple  and  ancient  music,  visitations  of  the  poor  and  sick,  and  fre- 
quent celebration  of  the  sacraments,  ordinances,  and  offices,  to  do 
his  part  towards  presenting  the  Church  in  its  entireness  before  this 
community. 

Resolved,  That  the  assistant  minister,  of  whom  the  letter  speaks, 
has,  as  we  believe,  conformed  to  the  usages  of  the  parish  and  to  the 
wislies  of  the  rector,  and  has  won  the  respect  and  affisction  of  all  by 
his  patient  endurance,  his  self-denial,  his  constant  labors,  especially 
among  the  poor,  sick,  and  afflicted,  and  his  single-minded  devotion 
to  the  duties  of  his  holy  office. 

Resolved,  That  when  we  consider  the  character,  age,  and  services 
of  our  rector,  and  that  most  of  the  officers  of  the  parish  are  personally 
known  to  the  bishop,  we  are  the  more  surprised  at  the  appearing  of 
this  letter,  as  well  as  at  its  tone.  That  we  regret  it  the  more,  as  it 
places  us,  unexpectedly  and  unwillingly,  in  the  attitude  of  a  public 
defence  against  our  ecclesiastical  head  in  the  diocese. 

Resolved,  That  the  clerk  procure  a  copy  of  the  "  Christian  Wit- 
ness "  referred  to,  and  place  it  on  the  files  of  the  parish ;  that  these 
resolutions  be  entered  in  full  upon  the  records  ;  that  a  copy  of  the 
same  be  transmitted  to  the  bishop ;  and  that  they  be  sent  to  the 
"  Christian  Witness  "  for  publication. 

C.'  R  GORDON,     j   ^«'■^^"^• 

THERON  METCALF, 

THOMAS  D.  MORRIS, 

ALEXANDER  WOOD, 

R.  M.  COPELAND, 

R.  H.  DANA,  Jr.,  J>  Vestrymen. 

W.  E.  COALE, 

R.  H.  SALTER, 

THEODORE    METCALF, 

C.  R.  BOND, 

The  rector  also  addressed  the  following  letter  to  his  diocesan  :  — 

To  THE  Right  Reverend  Manton  Eastburn,  D.  D., 

Bishop  of  the  Diocese  of  Massachusetts. 

Reverend  Father  in  God :  1  received  through  the  post  office  this 
afternoon  a  copy  of  the  "  Christian  Witness  "  of  December  5,  contain- 
ing the  following  circular  :     [Here  follows  the  letter,  as  at  page  357.] 

I  am  fain  to  believe  that  many  of  my  clerical  brethren  in  that 
mystical  body,  whose  members  suffer  one  Avith  another,  will  feel 
hardly  less  deeply  hurt  and  aggrieved  than  myself,  both  by  the  man- 
ner and  matter  of  the  foregoing  official  communication.  As  one  who 
truly  loves  the  brotherhood  with  whom  he  has  been  so  long  and  so 
intimately  identified,  and  who    has   ever  desired  to  carry  himself 


1845.1  CHURCH  OF  THE  ADVENT.  363 

dutifully  towards  liis  bishop,  according-  to  the  vows  of  his  ordination, 
I  cannot  affect  to  conceal  the  distress  which  it  has  given  me ;  nor 
will  you  wonder  that  I  should  be  most  anxious  to  rescue  myself, 
before  the  Church,  from  the  fearful  charge  of  having  introduced 
imong  the  "  flock  of  God,  of  which  the  Holy  Ghost  hath  made  me 
overseer,"  "  irregularities,  degrading  to  the  character  of  the  Church, 
and  perilous  to  the  souls  of  our  people."  On  such  a  charge,  the 
canons  require  that  every  clergyman  should  be  presented,  tried,  and 
convicted,  before  the  bishop  is  authorized  to  pronounce  sentence. 
As  I  have  been  condemned,  in  this  case,  without  the  formalities  of  a 
hearing,  I  see  not  what  is  left  me  but  to  present,  with  a  brief  state- 
ment of  the  case,  my  earnest  but  humble  protest  against  a  proceed- 
ing so  severe,  and,  as  I  am  inclined  to  beheve,  in  our  branch  of  the 
Church,  so  entirely  unprecedented. 

I  send  you,  also,  at  the  request  of  the  wardens  and  vestry,  a  copy 
of  a  series  of  resolutions  unanimously  adopted  by  them,  at  a  meet- 
ing held  on  the  evening  of  the  5th  instant,  in  which  your  letter 
receives  a  careful  and  respectful  consideration. 

Having  passed  the  first  eleven  yeai-s  of  my  ministry  in  this  city, 
as  rector  of  one  of  the  oldest  churches,  I  need  not  speak  for  myself 
of  my  manner  of  life  during  that  period.  I  left,  in  1840,  to  take 
charge  of  a  parish  in  the  diocese  of  Western  New  York,  not  only 
without  censure  or  reproach,  but  with  a  voluntary  testimonial  of 
a,ifection  and  confidence,  signed  by  the  bishop  and  every  one  of  our 
clergy  resident  at  that  time  in  Boston,  Newton,  and  Lowell.  In 
transferring  my  canonical  relations,  your  truly  "  i-evered  predecessor, 
now  resting  from  his  labors,"  wrote  to  Bishop  De  Lancey  the  fol- 
lowing dimissory  letter,  a  copy  of  which  I  have  happily  preserved  :  — 


Dear  Sir  :  The  object  of  this  is  to  transfer  from  the  State  of  Massachu- 
setts to  your  diocese  the  Rev.  William  Croswell.  Merely  to  say  that, 
for  three  years  last  past,  he  has  not  been  justly  liable  to  evil  report,  for  error 
in  doctrine,  or  viciousness  of  life,  though  eminently  true,  seems  in  his  case 
very  unnecessary.  He  will  leave  behind  him  no  clergyman  more  highly, 
more  justly,  or  more  generally  esteemed  for  those  qualities  which  constitute 
and  adorn  the  gentleman,  the  scholar,  and  the  faithful  minister  of  Christ. 
While,  with  many  hundreds  of  others,  I  deeply  regret  his  loss  to  this  diocese, 
I  may  well  congratulate  you  on  such  an  accession  to  yours.  That  in  his 
new  situation  he  may  find  friends  as  numerous  and  as  cordial  as  those  he 
leaves,  is  the  prayer  of 

Your  friend  and  brother, 

A.  V.  GRISWOLD. 


The  prayer  of  the  aged  and  beloved  bishop  was  answered,  in  my 
new'  residence,  beyond  my  expectations  and  deserts.  Of  this,  how- 
ever, it  is  foreign  to  my  present  purpose  to  say  more.  I  would 
gladly  have  said  less.  But,  though  unconscious  of  the  slight- 
est change  in  the  principles  and  views  with  which  I  entered  the 


364  MEMOm   OF  "^TELLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1845. 

ministry,  or  of  deserving,  in  any  respect,  to  forfeit  the  confidence  of 
those  who  are  set  over  us  in  the  Lord,  yet  a  glance  at  the  heinous 
imputations  against  me,  in  your  circular,  painfully  convinces  me, 
that  a  testimonial,  from  such  a  quarter,  of  my  "  freedom  from  any 
just  liahility  to  evil  report,"  however  "  eminently  true,"  may  not 
seem  so  "  very  unnecessary." 

Suffice  it  to  say,  that  I  joyfully  embraced  an  opportunity  which 
offered,  just  a  twelvemonth  since,  to  return  to  this  city  of  my  affec- 
tions ;  and  accepted,  with  your  sanction  and  approbation,  reverend 
father  in  God,  the  rectorship  of  the  newly-organized  Church  of  the 
Advent.  I  found  a  band  of  zealous  and  intelligent  laity  ready  and 
willing  to  cooperate  with  me.  We  commenced,  under  every  disad- 
vantage, in  a  humble  and  obscure  "  upper  room."  It  was  my 
"  heart's  desire,"  in  accordance  with  the  closing  aspiration  in  your 
circular,  "in  my  high  and  holy  calling  to  set  forth  the  unsearchable 
riches  of  Christ  to  a  world  lying  in  sin  and  death."  ^fext  to  this,  in 
building  up  a  new  parish  from  the  beginning,  it  was  our  unanimous 
wish  to  carry  out,  as  strictly  as  possible,  the  intentions  of  the  Church, 
as  tliey  are  expressed  in  the  Prayer  Book.  With  these  two  objects 
steadily  in  view,  I  have  been  willing  to  labor  in  season  and  out  of 
season,  and  from  house  to  house.  As  in  the  primitive  days  of  the 
gospel,  by  the  divine  blessing,  the  word  of  God  has  grown  mightily 
and  prevailed.  We  removed  to  our  present  chapel,  which,  though 
very  convenient,  is  not  large  enough  for  the  accommodation  of  our 
people.  The  Lord  is  still  pleased  to  add  daily  to  the  Church  such 
as,  we  trust,  shall  be  saved.  The  number  of  communicants  has 
increased  to  more  than  a  hundred  ;  thirty  persons  have  been  bap- 
tized, of  whom  nine  have  been  adults ;  and  several  others  are  pre- 
paring themselves  for  the  same  "  washing  of  regeneration." 

I  ascribe,  reverend  father  in  God,  the  blessing  which  has  thus  far 
crowned  our  efforts  chiefly  to  the  simple  and  constant  exhibition  of 
our  church,  as  a  church  "instant  in  prayer,"  and  by  seeking  to 
stir  up  nil  that  is  within  us  to  make  the  most  of  our  privileges,  and 
thus  exhibit  -the  service,  not  as  a  mere  formality,  but  a  free-will 
offering  of  the  heart  and  understanding.  To  inspire  the  feeling  of 
earnestness  and  reverence  in  others,  we  have  sought  to  be  earnest 
and  reverent  ourselves.  We  have  knelt  devoutly  before  and  with 
our  people,  "  towards  God's  most  holy  place,"  as  our  new  version 
of  the  Psalms  expresses  it,  that  they  also  might  learn  to  kneel  after 
our  example.  The  effect  has  been  all  that  we  hoped  for.  The 
flame  has  spread  from  heart  to  heart.  The  cold  silence  and  wan- 
dering looks,  the  carelessness  and  apathy,  which  are  subjects  of 
complaint  in  so  many  places  of  worship,  have  disappeared  before  it. 
Many,  who  have  come  without  religious  sympathy,  we  have  reason  to 
know  have  been  joined  together  with  us  in  a  new  bond  of  Christian 
union.     I  venture  to  say,  that  the  expression  of  "  ridicule  and  con- 


1845.]  CHURCH   OF  THE  ADA^XT.  365 

tempt,"  to  wliicli  you  allude,  has  not  been  known  among  us  ;  though 
doubtless  some  who  "came  to  scoff"  have  "remained  to  ])ray." 

The  establishment  of  the  daily  service  has,  according  to  our  fond 
anticipations,  eminently  contributed  to  the  same  happy  result.  It 
was  commenced  on  the  1st  of  September  last,  and  has  been  since 
continued  without  intermission.  To  meet  the  demands  of  this  ser- 
vice, in  addition  to  our  many  other  duties,  I  secured  the  assistance 
of  a  brother  beloved,  a  native  of  this  city,  not  without  your  being 
apprised  that  it  was  in  contemplation,  whom  I  had  known  and 
esteemed,  from  the  first  beginnings  of  his  ministry  at  Lynn,  for  his 
self-sacrificing  fidelity,  and  his  patient  endurance  of  hardness  as  a 
good  soldier  of  Christ  Jesus.  While  I  heartily  respond  to  the  terms 
in  which  he  is  noticed  in  the  resolutions  of  the  vestry,  it  is  proper  for 
me  to  add,  that  whatever  censures  you  have  thought  fit,  thus  pub- 
licly, to  cast  upon  the  arrangements  or  mode  of  worship  in  our 
chapel,  no  part  of  them  should  fall  upon  him.  The  responsibility 
rests  with  myself  and  the  vestry.  He  has  simply  conformed  to  our 
usages  and  my  wishes,  and  has  neither  suggested  nor  practised  any 
variations  therefrom. 

I  need  not  say,  reverend  father  in  God,  that  your  visitation  to  our 
parish  had  been  looked  for  with  much  interest.  The  crowd  of 
worshippers  on  that  occasion,  the  simple  but  inspiring  music,  "  the 
hearty  and  athletic  responses,  the  sympathy  of  sacred  sounds,  the 
collective  strength  of  prayer,"  the  devout  and  reverential  demeanor 
of  the  congregation,  the  number  and  respectability  of  the  candidates 
for  confirmation,  (all  persons  of  mature  years,)  and  your  own 
unusually  glowing  and  fervid  address,  —  made  us  feel  that  it  was, 
indeed,  good  to  be  there ;  and  we  could  not  but  regard  these  as 
grateful  evidences  that  God  was  with  us  of  a  truth,  and  had  signally- 
blessed  our  efforts  to  revive  the  tone  of  public  worship  from  the  cold 
and  lifeless  state,  the  want  of  vitality  and  engagedness,  into  which 
it  has  so  confessedly  fallen  among  us.  I  need  not  say  that  I  was 
greatly  disappointed  to  find  that  your  feelings,  at  that  moment, 
were  so  entirely  different  from  mine. 

In  the  hasty  and  impulsive,  not  to  say  excited,  remarks  which 
fell  from  you,  while  my  mind  was  yet  filled  with  the  impressive  and 
solemn  services  in  which  we  had  just  united,  —  and  even  before  you 
left  the  chancel,  —  I  did  not  recognize  any  thing  like  a  formal  or 
deliberate,  much  less  authoritative,  judgment  in  the  matters  to  which 
you  alluded.  The  style  of  rebuke,  addressed  to  my  assistant,  was 
such  as  I  never  had  the  pain  to  hear  from  any  bishop  before.  It 
was  administered,  not  on  account  of  his  kneeling  in  front  of  the  holy 
table,  *  one  might  be  led  to  suppose  from  your  letter,  which  he  did 
not  do,  (although  it  is  every  where  done  without  blame,  whenever 
three  clergymen  are  in  the  chancel,)  but  on  account  of  his  not  turn- 
ing his  back  upon  it,  and  facing  his  chair  —  a  position  which,  as  I 


3G6  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1845. 

had  at  tlie  time  no  knowledge  of  your  preferences,  would  have  made 
him  liable  to  reproof  from  me.  You  afforded  the  wardens  and  vestry, 
on  that  occasion,  no  opportunity  to  confer  with  you,  although  they 
waited  long  at  the  entrance  of  the  church  to  do  so  ;  nor  has  any 
communication,  whetlier  official  or  otherwise,  since  been  made  to 
us  collectively  or  individually.  I  could  not  but  expect,  that  if,  upon 
reflection,  in  that  very  brief  interval  which  occurred  between  your 
visitation  and  the  publication  of  your  letter,  you  should  conclude 
these  matters  to  be  of  sufficient  gravity  for  episcopal  correction,  you 
would,  at  least  by  official  communication  of  something  like  a  private 
character  with  the  rector,  wardens,  and  vestry,  have  designated  the 
new  mode  of  worship  which  you  wished  to  have  introduced  into  our 
chapel.  As  you  state  that,  during  that  time,  you  "  expressed  your 
views  as  opportunity  oft'ered  to  various  individuals  "  other  than  our- 
selves, so  might  you  have  had  opportunity  of  ascertaining,  at  least, 
whether  the  result  of  such  a  communication  with  us  would  or  would 
not  have  prevented  any  supposed  necessity  of  "  utterly  and  unquali- 
fiedly condemning  "  a  clergyman  and  his  vestry  in  this  public  man- 
ner. It  might,  at  least,  have  left  you  without  occasion  for  the  some- 
what remarkable  admission,  in  regard  to  a  parish  "  under  your  own 
immediate  eye,"  that  "  whether  the  course  adopted  there  will  be 
continued  or  not,  it  is  beyond  my  ability  to  conjecture."  If,  how- 
ever, in  the  exercise  of  your  discretion,  it  seemed  more  proper, 
before  thus  communicating  with  the  parties  most  interested,  as  a 
spiritual  father  with  his  children  in  the  faith,  to  call  the  attention  of 
all  my  clerical  brethren  to  my  alleged  delinquencies,  I  cannot  but 
regret  that  you  should  have  preferred,  to  all  other  obvious  modes 
of  doing  so,  that  of  publication  in  the  columns  of  a  newspaper ;  thus 
seeming  to  expose  our  common  mother,  the  Church,  to  the  gain- 
saying of  the  world. 

Since  the  publication  of  your  letter,  I  have  carefully  examined  it, 
again  and  again,  to  ascertain  precisely  the  grounds  on  which  your 
charges  and  condemnation  are  founded ;  and  can  discover  nothing 
but  what  relates  to  the  arrangement  of  the  chancel,  and  the  posture 
of  the  officiating  ministers  in  prayer.  These  topics  —  the  chancel, 
holy  table,  candlesticks,  cross,  and  attitude  —  are  so  satisfactorily 
treated  in  the  accompanying  resolutions,  that  further  comment 
might  seem  to  be  unnecessary.  It  may  be  expected,  however,  that 
I  should  give  my  own  opinions,  without  reserve,  on  all  these  subjects, 
in  their  order. 

In  the  arrangements  of  our  chancel,  with  reference  to  the  size  of 
our  chapel,  the  utmost  simplicity  consistent  with  the  decency  and 
dignity  of  public  worship  was  intended ;  and  I  am  not  awate  that 
it  contains  a  superfluous  article.  A  communion  table  of  the  plainest 
description,  and  which  has  nothing  to  recommend  it  but  its  fair  pro- 
portions and  its  decent  covering  —  the  gift  of  an  individual ;    four 


1845.]  CHURCH   OF  THE   ADVENT.  367 

candlesticks,  on  a  shelf  immediately  above  the  holy  table,  to  light 
the  chancel  at  evening ;  two  narrow  and  high-backed  chairs, 
imported  at  an  early  day,  as  I  am  informed,  by  our  Pilgrim  fathers, 
for  the  use  of  a  Puritan  parsonage  ;  and  a  lectern,  —  as  entirely 
simple  and  unadorned  as  a  common  music  stand,  —  from  which  the 
word  of  God  is  read  and  also  preached  to  the  people.  Above  the 
table,  in  the  window,  is  the  cross,  the  symbol,  of  all  others,  which 
we  delight  to  make  most  conspicuous.  These  constitute  all  the 
furniture  of  the  chancel ;  and  I  doubt  whether  there  is  another  in  the 
city  which  contains  less  of  what  can  be  dispensed  with,  or  that  is 
reasonably  or  unreasonably  oftensive. 

For  the  evidence,  in  detail,  that  our  communion  table  is  not  fitted 
up  like  a  Roman  Catholic  altar,  I  refer  to  the  resolution  of  the 
vestry  on  that  point.  Their  views  on  this  subject  correspond  with 
my  own,  so  far  as  I  can  judge  by  description,  not  having  seen  the 
interior  of  a  Roman  Catholic  place  of  worship  for  many  years,  and 
having  very  indistinct  impressions  with  regard  to  it.  But,  though 
the  holy  table  in  our  churches  bears  no  resemblance  to  a  Roman 
Catholic  altar,  reverend  father  in  God,  is  there  no  sense,  I  appeal 
to  you,  in  which  the  members  of  our  Church  may  say,  with  the 
blessed  apostle,  "  we  have  an  altar,"  as  well  as  priest  and  sacrifice  ? 
On  this  subject,  the  views  of  the  Right  Rev.  Dr.  Henshaw,  Bishop 
of  Rhode  Island,  are  essentially,  I  presume,  your  own,  as  well  as 
mine  and  those  of  most  of  the  clergy  ;  or,  if  not,  they  will  not,  I 
am  sure,  be  denounced  as  a  part  of  that  "  unsound  and  unchurch-like 
theology "  with  which  the  faithful  are  to  have  no  sympathy. 
"  What,"  says  he,  in  his  lecture  on  "  the  true  construction  of  the 
terms  altar,  priest,  and  sacrifice,"  which  has  been  published  in  many 
forms,  and  with  which  you  are  doubtless  famihar,  —  ^^tvhat  is  an 
altar  ?  In  its  simple  idea,  it  is  something  upon  which,  of  at  tvhich,  an 
offering  is  sacredly  made  to  God.  It  is  a  common  mistake  to  suppose 
that  an  altar  necessarili/  implies  that  the  offerings  presented  upon  it 
must  be  bloody  or  animal  sacrifices.  There  is  nothing,  however,  in 
the  term  itself,  or  in  its  use  among  all  nations,  to  justify  this  exclu- 
sive interpretation.  From  a  very  early  period  of  the  Christian 
Church,  the  holy  table,  where  the  common  praises  and  prayers 
were  offered  up,  and  where  the  Lord's  supper  —  the  highest  act  of 
Christian  devotion  —  was  celebrated,  was  called  an  altar.  This 
appellation  has  been  common  in  every  succeeding  age ;  and  we  are 
very  familiar  with  this  application  of  it  in  our  own.  Other  denomi- 
nations of  Christians,  no  less  than  the  Church,  speak  of  their  altar, 
where  they  celebrate  the  most  affecting  services  of  their  religion, 
and  invite  persons  to  approach  and  siirroimd  it,  in  the  expectation 
that  God  will  meet  with  and  bless  them  there.  This  word  occurs 
but  once  in  our  Prayer  Book  —  in  the  institution  office  ;  but,  as  there 
applied,  we  know  that  it  indicates  what  is  called  '  the  Lord's  table,' 


368  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM    CROSWELL.  [1845. 

and  the  'holy  table,'  in  other  parts  of  the  book.  No  one  mistakes 
our  meaning  when  the  word  is  so  used  ;  all  know  that  we  mean 
the  place  where  the  sacred  mysteries  of  our  religion  are  celebrated, 
and  our  most  solemn  offerings  of  devotion  presented  to  God."  "  We 
have  no  wish  to  mystify  what  is  plain ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  to 
relieve  the  minds  of  humble  Christians  from  perplexity,  by  explain- 
ing language  which  the  Church  has  seen  fit  to  employ,  and  teaching 
them  nut  to  he  alarmed  ichen  things  are  called  hy  their  right  names.'''' 
If,  then,  reverend  father  in  God,  we  of  this  church  have,  in  this 
sense,  or  any  sense,  an  altar,  why  should  it  be  a  subject  of  "  utter 
and  unqualified  condemnation  "  that  it  looTcs  so  very  like  an  altar  ? 

In  the  matter  of  the  "  golden  candlesticks,"  I  will  only  add,  to 
what  has  been  said  in  the  resolutions  of  the  vestry,  that,  so  far  from 
being  an  offensive  innovation  upon  the  ancient  usage  of  our  Church, 
these  ornaments  are  in  strict  accordance  with  the  existing  English 
rubric.  Dr.  Wheatly —  whose  "Rational  Illustration  of  the  Book 
of  Common  Prayer  "  is  commended  as  a  text  book,  by  the  House 
of  Bishops,  to  the  "  careful  study  "  of  every  candidate  for  holy  or- 
ders—  states  expressly  that  "two  fights  were,  by  the  injunctions  of 
King  Edward  VI.,  and  by  the  Act  of  Uniformity,  passed  after  the 
reformation,  to  be  set  upon  the  altar."  "  And  these  lights,  used 
time  out  of  mind  in  the  Church,  are  still  continued  in  most,  if  not  all, 
cathedrcd  and  collegiate  churches  and  chapels,  so  often  as  divine  service 
is  performed  by  candlelight ;  and  ought  also  to  be,  by  this  rubric^  used 
in  all  parish  churches  and  chapels  at  the  same  time.''''  This  usage,  there- 
fore, is  directly  inherited  by  us  from  our  martyr  reformers.  With 
regard  to  contemporaneous  practice  in  the  mother  country,  it  is  suf- 
ficient to  say,  that  the  Bishoji  of  London  observes,  in  a  late  charge,  "  I 
see  no  objection  to  candles  on  the  communion  table,  provided  that 
they  are  not  burning,  except  when  the  church  is  lighted  for  evening 
service."  If  it  were  worth  while,  in  a  matter  of  so  little  importance, 
to  look  for  authority  in  our  own  diocese  and  city,  it  might  be  stated, 
that  in  Christ  Church, — the  only  one  of  our  older  churches  that 
was  ever  opened  for  worship  at  night,  —  previous  to  the  alterations 
in  the  year  1830,  lights  were  burning  upon  the  holy  table  as  often 
as  they  were  needed  at  the  evening  service. 

With  regard  to  "  the  cross,"  I  cannot  bring  myself  to  say  one 
word  in  answer  to  your  objection.  I  am  happy  to  confess,  that  I 
am  "  childish  and  puerile  "  enough  to  love  and  rejoice  to  have  that 
precious  symbol  presented  to  the  eye  in  all  holy  places  —  "  of  all 
symbols  the  most  speaking  and  most  touching ;  proclaiming  Christ 
crucified  ;  the  alpha  and  omega  of  the  Church's  existence."  Neither 
the  size,  nor  the  fact  that  it  is  "  wooden  "  as  well  as  "  large,"  can 
in  any  way  affect  the  feeling  or  the  principle,  though  they  may  help 
to  give  it  character  and  significancy.  I  hand  it  over  to  "  the  sensible 
and  enlightened  persons  of  other  Christian  bodies,"  who  are  referred 


1845.]  CHURCH   OF  THE   ADVENT.  309 

lo  in  the  note,  and  who  do  not  forget,  in  the  sign,  the  thing  signi- 
fied.* This  objection  is  the  more  remarkable,  because  there  is  not 
one  of  our  churches  in  the  city  wliicli  is  not  as  open  to  censure  on 
similar  grounds.  To  begin  with  Trinity  Church  or  Cathedral,  the 
chancel  of  which  has  been  arranged  and  highly  decorated  since  your 
incumbency,  if  not  under  your  supervision.  We  miss  the  cross,  in- 
deed, but  the  mitre  is  not  excluded.  There  is  the  descent  of  the 
Mystic  Dove,  the  tables  of  the  law  which  came  by  Moses,  radiant 
with  glory  ;  the  prayer  of  our  Lord,  and  the  creed  of  the  Holy 
Catholic  Church ;  to  say  nothing  of  the  monumental  emblems  and 
the  likeness  of  "  the  living  dead  "  graved  on  the  tablet  erected,  un- 
der the  sanction  of  the  convention,  to  the  memory  of  your  meek 
and  saint-like  predecessor.  For  the  same  reason  that  1  rejoice  to 
see  these,  I  should  more  rejoice  to  see  the  cross  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ.  Christ  Church  has  always  abounded  in  imagery,  painted 
and  carved,  of  every  description,  and  in  every  direction  ;  and  there 
are  few  among  us  who  have  not  interesting  and  affecting  associations 
connected  with  its  beautifully-curtained  altar  piece  of  the  last  supper, 
with  its  golden  chalice  ;  the  descent  of  the  Holy  Spirit ;  and  the 
rays  over  the  chancel,  in  the  midst  of  which  is  disclosed  the  ineffa- 
ble name.  Over  the  holy  table,  in  St.  Paul's,  is  a  painting  of  the 
transfiguration,  direct  from  Rome.  At  Grace  Church,  a  cross  in 
bold  relief,  on  the  shaft  of  the  baptismal  font,  intercepts  the  eye 
between  the  porch  and  the  altar.  In  the  chapel  of  the  Church  of 
the  Messiah,  there  is  a  cross  over  the  holy  table.  Trinity  Hall  is 
arranged  much  like  ours,  in  what  yon  regard  its  objectionable  fea- 
tures ;  and  at  St.  James's  Church,  in  Roxbury,  a  cross  is  conspicu- 
ous among  the  decorations  of  the  chancel  window.      In  this  respect, 


*  The  late  Dr.  Adam  Clarke,  a  burning  and  sliining  light  of  the  Methodist 
connection,  who  -vvill  not  be  suspected  of  any  leaning  towards  Romanism,  tells 
us  that,  in  passing  through  a  graveyard,  he  was  struck  -with  the  appearance  of 
graves  ornamented  with  crosses  and  garlands  as  tokens  of  affectionate  regard. 
"  A  frozen-hearted  formalist,"  says  he,  "  may  condemn  this,  and  call  it  super- 
stition ;  true  religion  and  pure  affection  would  give  it  a  far  different  name.  I 
felt  and  could  have  wept  with  the  disconsolate  parents  and  siirvdvors,  and  kissed 
the  crosses  by  which  the  meritorious  death  of  our  blessed  Savior  was  thus  held 
out  to  public  view,  as  the  only  foundation  of  the  survivor's  hope,  that  death, 
the  last  enemy,  should  be  finally  destroyed,  and  that  those  hearts  knit  together 
here  in  pure  and  honest  love  should  be  reunited  in  eternity,  where  bonds  can 
no  more  be  broken,  and  death  can  never  enter."  —  Life,  2d  edition,  1841,  p.  289. 

Dr.  Gkaxt,  a  missionary  of  the  American  Board  of  Commissioners  for  Foreign 
Missions,  teUs  us,  in  his  travels  among  the  Nestorian  Chiistians,  that  he  was 
giiided  by  one  of  the  bishops  to  a  plain  stone  cross  which  lay  upon  the  altar, 
supposing  that  he  would  manifest  his  devotional  feelings,  after  their  own  cus- 
tom, by  pressing  it  to  his  lips.  "  There  is  something,"  says  he,  "  very  affecting 
in  this  simple  outward  expression,  as  practised  by  the  Nestorians,  who  mingle 
with  it  none  of  the  image  worship  or  the  other  corrupt  observances  of  the  Ro- 
man CathoUc  church.  May  it  not  be  that  the  abuse  of  such  symbols,  by  the 
votaries  of  the  Roman  see,  has  carried  us  Protestants  to  the  other  extreme, 
■when  we  utterly  condemn  the  simple  memento  of  the  cross  ? ' 
47 


370  MEMOIR  OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1845. 

reverend  father  in  God,  are  not  all  the  members  of  our  communion, 
yourself  included,  yea,  and  all  our  fathers  before  us,  and  even  the 
original  continental  Protestant  reformers,  included  in  the  selfsame 
condemnation  ?  The  Lutherans  have  retained  the  cross  in  theii 
churches  ;  and  if  we,  who  follow  their  example  in  this  respect,  are 
justly  stigmatized  as  Popish,  then,  as  the  learned  author  of  "No 
Union  with  Rome  "  remarks,  were  Luther  and  Melancthon  them- 
selves eminently  Papistical. 

The  only  otiier  subject  of  censure  to  which  you  have  alluded  re- 
lates to  the  position  of  the  clergymen  in  the  devotional  parts  of 
the  service ;  by  wliich  I  understand  you  to  refer  to  our  kneeling 
with  our  faces  towards  the  holy  table.  To  nothing  else  can  the 
equivocal  expression,  the  "  postures  used,"  which  I  regret  to  see  in 
your  letter,  be  applicable.  We  use  no  other  "  posture  "  in  prayer 
than  that  of  kneeling  towards  the  altar ;  and  this  is  no  other  pos- 
ture than  that  which  every  reverential  worshipper  is  taught  to 
assume  in  his  devotions  in  the  house  of  God,  and  which  every  mem- 
ber of  our  communion  adopts,  when  he  is  invited  to  draw  near  in 
faith  to  the  holy  table,  and  to  make  his  humble  confession  to  Al- 
mighty God,  devoutly  kneeling.  Indeed,  it  is  impossible  to  conceive 
how  any  one  is  to  pray  at  the  holy  table,  without  turning  his  face 
towards  it ;  or  why  that  posture  should  be  stigmatized  as  "  super- 
stitious," when  used  within  the  chancel,  which  is  adopted,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  by  every  one  without  it.  I  have  had  experience 
of  its  happy  effects  on  my  own  mind,  in  aiding  reverential  feeling, 
collectedness,  and  abstraction  of  thought,  and  freedom  in  prayer, 
as  the  countenance  was  relieved  from  the  constraint  of  a  gazing 
congregation.  Indeed,  I  must  confess  that  I  can  see  no  distinction, 
in  principle,  between  facing  the  altar  at  its  corner,  as  was  done  by 
my  assistant  on  the  evening  to  wliich  you  refer,  and  facing  it  at  its 
side,  as  was  done  by  yourself  on  that  occasion. 

True  it  is,  that  we  have  endeavored  to  observe  the  distinction 
which  was  made  by  the  compilers  of  our  liturgy  between  the  daily 
morning  prayer  and  the  ante-communion  office.  This  has  been 
done  in  accordance  with  the  directions  of  our  best  ritualists,  with 
regard  to  the  "  place  of  reading  prayers  and  the  position  of  the 
minister."  "  From  what  has  been  brought  together,"  says  Rob- 
ertson, in  his  masterly  and  dispassionate  work  entitled  "  How  shall 
we  conform  to  the  Liturgy  ?  "  "  we  may  conclude  that  the  rubric  was 
originally  understood  to  fix  the  chancel  as  ordinarily  the  place  in  which 
the  service  should  he  read.  In  some  cases,  perhaps,  it  was  said  at 
the  holy  table  ;  but  it  seems  to  have  been  more  generally  said  in  a 
lower  part  of  the  chancel,  where  the  priest's  stall  was  constructed. 
The  stricter  Churchmen  turned  eastward,  (*'.  e.,  towards  the  altar,) 
which  position,  as  well  as  the  place  of  service,  the  Puritans  vehe- 
mently objected  to."     Would  it  were  the  Puritans  only  who  seem 


1845.]  CHURCH   OF   THE   ADVENT.  371 

to  object  to  it  now,  when  those  who  desire  to  be  accounted  among 
♦«  the  stricter  Churchmen"  turn  in  the  same  direction.  On  this  subject 
great  diversity  of  opinion  and  practice  has  prevailed,  and  been  tol- 
erated in  different  portions  of  tlie  Church.  One  of  our  bishops, 
some  years  since,  complained  that  tlie  holy  table  was  frequently 
"placed  so  low  as  hardly  to  be  seen,  unless  it  is  looked  for,"  and 
recommended  the  abolition  of  the  reading  desk,  on  the  ground  of 
its  manifest  uselessness,  and  the  gain  eff'ected  in  additional  room. 
Another  has  expressed  a  wish  to  abolish  both  desk  and  pulpit,  con- 
fining the  devotional  part  of  the  service  to  the  proper  place, — the 
altar,  —  and  using  the  movable  Bible  stand  from  which  the  lessons 
are  read  for  the  sermon,  hoinily,  or  exhortation.  This  was  our 
preference  in  arranging  our  present  place  of  worship ;  and  the  ser- 
vice is  thus  exhibited,  in  open  view,  in  all  its  simplicity,  beauty,  and 
integrity,  as  designed,  we  think,  by  the  framers  of  our  ritual,  and 
as  the  early  Christians,  without  doubt,  beheld  it,  antecedent  to  the 
days  of  Popery. 

In  adopting  these  authorized  and  edifying  practices  and  those 
arrangements  which  insure  the  least  display,  and  without  which 
suitable  room  for  our  chancel  could  not  be  obtained,  we  cannot 
perceive  that  we  have  given  any  ground  for  the  charge  of  intro- 
ducing "  irregularities  degrading  to  the  character  of  our  Church, 
and  perilous  to  the  souls  of  our  people."  We  do  but  stand  fast  in 
that  liberty  wherewith  Christ  and  the  Church  have  made  us  free. 
Uniting  upon  the  broad  platform  of  the  ancient  creeds,  and  cleaving 
steadfastly  to  the  established  formularies  of  the  Church,  and  abiding 
by  its  prescribed  practices,  we  claim  the  same  latitude,  in  mere 
matters  of  opinion,  which  we  freely  accord  to  others.  The  peace 
of  the  Church  is  only  to  be  preserved  by  such  mutual  concessions 
as  are  required  by  an  observance  of  the  three  great  rules  for  main- 
taining catholic  concord  —  "  In  essentials,  unity  ;  in  non-essentials, 
liberty ;  in  all  things,  charity."  If  the  practices  which  form  the 
subject  of  your  letter  fall  under  the  second  head,  as  we  have  sup- 
posed, then  the  "  liberty  "  has  little  to  recommend  it,  which  can  only 
be  exercised  under  the  penalty  of  ofliicial  denunciation.  If,  how- 
ever, it  is  not  in  these,  but  in  "  essentials,"  that,  in  your  judgment, 
our  usages  are  irregular,  degrading,  and  perilous,  then  the  canons 
prescribe  the  proper  and  obvious  remedy  for  the  offence.  While 
the  wise  and  prudent  provisions  of  the  Church  in  this  respect  are 
intended  to  serve  as  a  guide  to  her  bishops  in  "  so  ministering  dis- 
cipline that  they  forget  not  mercy,"  they  are  intended  no  less  as  a 
protection  to  the  inferior  clergy  against  condemnation  without  trial 
and  without  conviction.  Waiving  entirely  the  indignity  offered  to  me 
as  a  man,  therefore,  I  feel  that  I  have  just  cause  to  complain,  as  one 
of  the  presbytery,  that  the  protection  which  the  Church  has  thus 
provided  for  that  body  has  been  by  this  precedent  rendered  of  none 


372  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM    CROS\^^LL.  [1845. 

effect.  It  is  hard,  indeed,  to  conceive  how  any  "  irregularity  "  can 
possibly  be  more  "  degrading  to  the  cliaracter  of  our  Church,"  or 
more  to  be  deprecated  in  these  days  of  disquietude,  rebuke,  and 
blasphemy,  than  tlie  virtual  "  degradation "  of  the  clergy  in  the 
eyes  of  tlieir  people  by  metliods  alike  unknown  to  the  system  of 
the  Church  and  to  the  laws  of  any  well-ordered  government. 

Reverend  father  in  God,  you  will  perceive  the  regret  expressed 
in  the  resolutions  of  the  wardens  and  vestry  of  our  parish  that 
they  find  themselves  forced  into  a  position  of  defence  towards  one 
with  whom  they  had  endeavored  to  hold  different  relations.  If 
these  are  the  sentiments  of  the  laity  of  my  charge,  how  much  more 
sensibly  must  I  be  affected  by  them  !  Those  who  know  me  will 
bear  me  witness,  —  and  if  I  know  myself,  their  witness  is  true,  — 
that  I  would  have  endured  much  evil  speaking,  rather  than  be 
compelled,  as  I  have  been,  by  a  public  condemnation,  to  a  public 
defence.  But  all  the  relations  that  I  sustain  in  this  life  —  and  I  do 
not  deem  it  too  solemn  to  add,  towards  the  life  to  come  —  seemed 
to  call  upon  me  not  to  be  silent  under  your  accusations.  You  have 
taken  occasion,  through  the  public  press,  to  hold  me  up  as  a  pres- 
byter who  has  been  unfaithful  to  his  vows,  who  has  not  hesitated  to 
sacrifice  to  an  inclination  towards  idolatrous  usages  and  to  supersti- 
tious puerilities  the  character  of  the  Church  and  the  souls  of  our 
people.  If  charges  of  this  description  were  true,  there  would  be 
little  question  whether  I  were  worthy  to  be  a  Christian  minister, 
since  I  should  hardly  be  a  Christian  man.  This  were  indeed  to 
"  be  toward  the  flock  of  Christ"  not  "  a  shepherd,"  but  "  a  wolf." 

"  This  is  not  a  vain  thing  for  me,"  therefore,  reverend  father  in 
God,  "  because  it  is  my  life."  Nurtured  from  childhood  in  the 
strictest  principles  of  the  Church  by  a  venerable  parent  whose  long 
and  consistent  ministry  has  made  his  "  hoary  head  a  crown  of 
glory  "  in  the  sight  of  the  whole  Church ;  rooted  and  grounded  in 
the  distinctive  principles  of  the  faith,  not  by  "Union  Questions" 
of  all  denominations,  but  by  such  little  books  as  his  own  "Rudi- 
ments of  the  Church  "  and  "  The  Young  Churchman's  Guide  ;  " 
honored  in  being  a  catechumen  of  Bishop  De  Lancey,  during  a 
portion  of  his  academic  life  at  New  Haven  ;  instructed  in  theology  at 
the  feet  of  Bishop  Brownell,  at  Trinity  College,  Hartford ;  receiv- 
ing authority  at  his  hands  to  minister  in  holy  things  as  a  deacon  ; 
and  admitted  by  Bishop  Griswold  to  the  priesthood,  as  one  of  those 
who  had  "  used  the  oflice  of  a  deacon  well,  and  had  purchased  to  him- 
self a  good  degree,"  —  I  claim  tliat  my  training,  as  a  "  Hebrew  of  the 
Hebrews,"  ought  to  be  above  the  shadow  of  suspicion.  Having  thus 
been  "  taught  according  to  the  perfect  manner  of  the  law  of  the 
fathers,"  I  contiiuie  to  this  day  in  the  things  that  I  then  learned 
and  have  been  assured  of,  knowing  of  whom  I  learned  them.  I 
have   let   my  eyelids   look   right  on,  and  mine   eyes  look   straight 


1845.]  CHURCH   OF  THE   ADVENT.  373 

before  me,  turning  neither  to  the  right  hand  nor  to  the  left,  and  de- 
siring no  other  or  more  excellent  way  than  those  good  "  old  paths  " 
in  which  they  had  hitherto  led  me,  and  in  which  they  had  found, 
with  myriads  of  the  redeemed  before  them,  true  rest  unto  their 
souls.  From  the  time  that  I  was  appointed  "  to  stand  in  the  house 
of  God  and  to  minister  at  his  holy  altar," — and  I  am  now  no 
novice,  —  each  succeeding  year  has  brought  the  increasing  convic- 
tion, that  "  in  proportion  as  we  imbibe  the  spirit  of  our  noble  army 
of  martyrs  and  reformers,  as  exhibited  in  the  liturgy  and  ordinal, 
the  more  effectually  we  shall  preach  the  true  gospel  of  Christ  and 
insure  the  divine  blessing  on  our  labors."  It  has  been  my  heart's 
desire  ever  to  do  thus.  I  have  honestly  endeavored,  according  to 
the  grace  given  unto  me,  and  in  the  plain,  unsophisticated  sense  of 
my  ordination  vow,  "  to  give  my  faithful  diligence  so  to  minister 
the  doctrine  and  sacraments  and  the  disciphne  of  Christ  as  the 
Lord  hatli  commanded  and  this  Church  hath  received  the  same." 

When  it  pleased  the  great  Head  of  the  Church,  reverend  father 
in  God,  to  cast  my  lot  in  this  new  field,  where  the  laborers  are  not 
sufficient  for  the  harvest,  it  pleased  him  also  to  inspire  the  hearts 
of  the  respectable  and  intelligent  laity  of  our  parish  with  more  than 
common  zeal  in  this  holy  work.  Their  names  and  standing  in  this 
community  are  a  guaranty  that  it  was  not  "a  zeal  not  according  to 
knowledge."  They  know — and  there  is  One  who  knows  better 
than  any  of  us  —  that  I  have  determined  from  the  first,  the  Lord 
being  my  helper,  to  know  nothing  among  them  save  Jesus  Christ 
and  him  crucified  ;  and  that  I  have  longed  to  be  a  means,  in  his 
hands,  of  bringing  many  of  them  to  glory.  They  know  that  I  have 
labored  earnestly  for  the  peace  and  purity  of  the  Church  ;  that  I 
have  not  only  "  studied  to  be  quiet,"  myself,  but  "  to  set  forth  quiet- 
ness, peace,  and  love  among  all  Christian  people."  They  know 
that  I  have  thrown  myself,  to  use  the  words  of  a  dear  Christian 
brother,  "  fearlessly,  trustfully,  and  dutifully  on  the  system  of  the 
Prayer  Book,  in  its  whole  form  and  spirit,  keeping  back  from  the 
people  no  portion  of  the  heritage  to  which  they  are  entitled,  and 
giving  them  the  full  benefit  of  all  the  means  which  are  provided  to 
enable  them  to  'grow  in  grace,'  and  to  make  their  'calling  and 
election  sure.'  "  They  know,  as  those  only  who  have  tried  it  can 
know,  that  "  the  more  faithfully  they  discharge  the  duties  which  the 
Church  enjoins,  and  the  more  minutely  they  comply  with  her  various 
requirements,  the  more  rapidly  they  grow  in  admiration  of  her  prac- 
tical system,  and  perceive  her  wonderful  capacity  to  satisfy  all  the 
yearnings  of  the  human  heart."  They  know,  also,  that  these  well- 
meant  efforts  have  been  appreciated  far  beyond  our  most  sanguine 
expectations ;  and  that  "  high  and  low,  rich  and  poor,  one  with  an- 
other," have  resorted  to  our  humble  services,  as  to  "  the  shadow  of  a 
rock  in  a  weary  land."     In  the  midst  of  this  state  of  things,  and 


374  MEMOIR  OF  WILLIAM  CROSWELL.  [1845. 

with  these  prospects,  "  it  is  not  an  open  enemy  that  has  done  us  this 
dishonor;  hut  it  is  thou,  my  guide  !  "  However  unhappy  the  con- 
sequences may  be  elsewhere,  I  am  sure,  among  those  who  know  me, 
of  their  continued  confidence,  and  their  lively  sympathy  and  prayers. 
But  with  all  these  supports,  and  the  testimony  of  a  good  conscience 
besides,  still  it  is  the  sorest  of  all  trials  to  our  sinful  nature  "  to  do 
well  and  to  suffer  for  it,  and  to  take  it  patiently."  That  grace  is 
only  to  be  acquired  by  the  discipline  of  the  cross.  Looking  to  that 
cross  as  our  only  hope,  I  bow  my  knees  to  Him  who  loved  the 
Church  and  gave  himself  for  it,  that  this  severe  affliction  may  be 
overruled  for  good  ;  that  we  may  take  up  our  cross  daily,  and  bear 
and  endure  it,  rather  than  talk  about  it ;  and  exercise  the  lessons  of 
forgiveness  which  it  teaches  towards  those  by  whom  we  are  wounded 
in  the  house  of  our  friends.  In  this  spirit  I  would  also  entreat  your 
forgiveness,  reverend  father  in  God,  as  well  as  that  of  our  great 
Head  in  heaven,  if  I  have  unawares  exceeded  the  bounds  of  a  due 
earnestness;  if  it  is  I,  indeed,  who  have  been,  unconsciously,  the 
"  troubler  of  Israel,"  or  if  it  is  I  who,  by  any  form  of  error,  in 
word  or  deed,  have  caused  to  offend  one  of  the  little  ones  that  believe 
in  Christ ! 

I  remain,  reverend  father  in  God, 

Yours,  in  "  the  holy  office  of  priesthood," 

W.   CROSWELL. 
Boston,  December  6,  1845. 

These  three  documents,  being  published  together  in  pamphlet 
form,  were  thrown  into  general  circulation  ;  and  such  was  the  de- 
mand for  them,  that  edition  after  edition  was  called  for,  until  the 
whole  issue  amounted  to  several  thousands. 

In  addition  to  the  preparation  of  this  public  appeal,  the  rector 
found  time  to  keep  his  father  apprised,  through  his  private  corre- 
spondence, of  every  thing  that  was  passing  around  him.  December 
10,  he  writes,  "  I  ought  to  have  written  you  many  days  since,  in  or- 
der to  relieve  the  anxiety  which  my  silence,  I  fear,  must  occasion, 
and  to  explain  the  nature  of  our  unhappy  relations  with  the  bishop. 
Since  the  issuing  of  his  letter,  however,  I  have  been  much  engaged 
in  preparing  a  respectful  remonstrance,  founded  on  a  statement  of 
the  case,  and  in  which  I  have  the  best  advisers  and  counsel ;  and 
this  has  so  engrossed  me,  that  I  have  not  the  time,  nor  have  I  had 
the  heart,  to  disturb  you.  We  shall  issue  our  publication  this  week, 
and  it  will  make  you,  I  trust,  neither  ashamed  of  your  son,  nor 
abate  a  jot  of  your  trust  and  confidence  in  his  fidelity  to  the  ordina- 
tion vows  assumed  in  dear  old  Trinity,  at  New  Haven.  Let  not 
your  heart  be  troubled,  neither  let  it  be  afraid.  The  Lord  is  on  our 
side,  and  we  have  favor  with  the  people.  Of  the  conduct  of  our 
diocesan,  it  is  not  necessary  or  becoming  that  I  should  here  express 


1845.]  CHURCH   OF  THE  ADVENT.  375 

myself;  but  I  wish  you  could  see  some  of  f»ur  friends,  and  liear  the 
expressions  that  reach  us  from  every  quarter.  ...  As  soon  as 
this  is  off  my  mind,  I  will  write  more  fully.  Next  week  I  hope  to 
attend  the  meeting  of  the  Board  of  Fellows,  at  Hartford,  on  Tues- 
day ;  and,  in  that  case,  shall  give  you  the  balance  of  the  week  at 
New  Haven.  In  the  mean  time,  keep  quiet,  and  also  keep  up  a  good 
heart,  as  also  do  we.  I  have  seldom  seen  our  people  more  exhila- 
rated. There  is  another  view,  however,  to  be  taken  —  the  conse- 
quences to  the  Church ;  and  this  makes  it,  whatever  the  issue  to 
us,  a  sore  trial.  Pray  for  us."  In  his  next,  December  15,  he  an- 
nounces his  intention  of  visiting  Hartford  and  New  Haven,  and  ac- 
knowledges the  receipt  of  his  father's  letter,  which,  he  says,  "is  a 
great  gratification  to  me.  It  corresponds  exactly  with  what  I  hear 
from  every  quarter."  After  his  return,  which  was  greeted  by  his 
friends  with  great  cordiality,  he  again  writes,  giving  an  account  of 
the  great  number  of  letters  which  were  pouring  in  from  all  directions  ; 
and  adds,  "  I  could  Jiot  have  anticipated  such  a  burst  of  enthusiasm  ; 
but  it  shows  with  what  warmth  the  catholic  members  of  the  Church 
draw  towards  each  other,  and  how  lively  the  flow  of  circulation  is 
through  its  great  heart.  Already  our  second  edition,  like  the  first,  of 
a  thousand  have  been  scattered  in  every  direction,  and  is  exhausted. 
Anotlier  edition  of  two  thousand  more  will  be  ready  to-morrow,  to 
supply  the  demand  here  and  abroad."  Lastly,  on  December  30,  he 
writes,  "  Messages  still  continue  to  come  to  us  from  all  quarters  of 
the  land  ;  and  our  notoriety,  if  not  our  fame,  seems  to  ring  from  side 
to  side.  Our  four  thousand  copies  are  nearly  exhausted.  Appleton, 
of  New  York,  has  ordered  a  thousand,  to  meet  the  demand  in  that 
region.  He  writes  to  one  of  our  vestry,  that  he  endeavored  to  pre- 
vail with  the  editor  of  the  Protestant  Churchman  to  publish  it  ;  but 
he  says  he  cannot.,  though  it  seems  he  does  not  scruple,  according  to 
your  account,  to  make  his  comments  upon  it.  .  .  .  Until  yester- 
day, I  have  not  happened  to  meet  Bishop  Eastburn.  In  going 
through  Summer  Street  we  passed  each  other,  saluting  with  great 
civility  as  we  continued  each  on  his  way  in  opposite  directions.  I 
do  not  know  how  agreeable  it  might  have  been  to  him  ;  but  it  dis- 
turbed me  but  little." 

During  the  excitement  of  this  occasion  it  was  but  natural  that  the 
press,  both  religious  and  secular,  should  become  more  or  less  involved 
in  the  controversy.  The  bishop's  organ  in  Boston  having  sounded 
the  keynote,  all  the  religious  periodicals  of  the  party  caught  up  the 
tune,  and,  as  in  duty  bound,  undertook  the  defence  and  justification 
of  the  bishop  ;  while,  through  the  medium  of  anonymous  pamphlets 
and  the  secular  press,  many  attempts  were  made  to  divert  public  at- 
tention from  the  real  merits  of  the  case.  But  none  of  them  were 
suffered  to  affect  the  rector  of  the  Advent  and  his  friends.  They 
had  more  than  sufficient  to  satisfy  them,  in  the  full,  abundant,  and 


376  MEMOIR   OF  AVILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1845. 

cheering  testimonials  of  approbation  already  alluded  to.  It  would 
be  highly  gratifying  to  copy  some  of  these  testimonials  at  large,  and 
to  select  portions  of  all.  But  a  few  extracts  only  can  be  given. 
Some  of  these  were  written  under  strong  excitement,  immediately 
after  the  appearance  of  the  bishop's  circular  in  the  Witness,  and  be- 
fore the  reply  of  the  rector  had  been  issued,  and  may  now  be  passed 
over.  The  first  extract  is  from  the  letter  of  a  layman  of  higii  stand- 
ing and  respectability  in  a  neighboring  diocese  :  — 

"  The  extraordinary  course  of  your  bishop  has  excited,  so  far  as 
I  hear,  a  conunon  feeling  of  disgust  and  reprobation  ;  while  your 
reply,  in  its  whole  spirit  and  manner,  is  regarded  as  such  as  the 
occasion  demanded,  and  worthy  alike  of  your  sacred  office,  the  rights 
of  your  church,  and  the  feelings  of  an  injured  man.  .  .  .  Cir- 
cumstances have  unfortunately  placed  Bishop  Eastburn  in  a  position 
that  enables  him  to  inflict  wounds  upon  the  Episcopal  faith  and  char- 
acter ;  and  he  has  availed  himself  of  its  opportunities  to  an  extent, 
and  in  a  manner,  beyond  the  worst  hopes  of  its  enemies.  It  is  very 
desirable  that  the  facts,  as  they  are,  should  be  known,  —  for, 
wherever  they  are  not  known,  they  will  scarcely  escape  misrepresen- 
tation, —  and  that  the  circular,  with  your  letter,  and  the  resolutions 
of  the  wardens  and  vestry  of  the  Church  of  the  Advent,  should  be 
widely  circulated.  We  desire  many  copies  for  our  uses  here  and  for 
different  parts  of  the  diocese.  .  t  .  And  now,  well  beloved,  go 
forward  in  the  strength  of  your  position,  and  doubt  not  in  the  favor 
of  the  great  Head  of  the  Church.  This  intended  rebuke,  as  grievous 
and  wounding  to  a  sensitive  mind  as  it  is  derogatory  to  the  Christian 
character  and  the  teachings  of  Episcopacy,  —  nay,  unworthy  of  our 
common  humanity  and  the  conventional  rules  of  social  life,  —  will, 
if  there  is  a  spark  of  the  old  spirit  unextinguished  in  the  ancient 
commonwealth,  recoil  upon  its  author  with  great  and  just  severity. 
In  a  true  church,  and  among  a  free  people,  such  arrogance  and 
unfairness  of  arraignment  and  condemnation — an  accusation  so 
lofty  in  its  equivocal  generalities  and  yet  so  '  puerile  '  and  ground- 
less in  itself —  may  swell  the  tide  of  worshippers  at  the  Church  of  the 
Advent,  but  must  finally  limit  the  followers  of  a  heartless  and  arro- 
gant bishop  to  such  as  prefer  the  mitre,  rather  than  the  cross,  as  the 
symbol  of  their  faith.  .  .  .  If  we  cannot  imitate  your  noble 
devotion  to  your  faith  and  its  duties,  and  your  example  of  a  blame- 
less, elevated,  zealous,  but  unpretending  Christian  life,  we  can  admire 
these  qualities,  and  give  you,  all  of  us,  our  sympathies  and  our 
prayers." 

The  next  in  order  of  date  is  from  a  venerable  presbyter  of  his 
own  diocese  —  a  clergyman  of  gentle  spirit,  but  of  great  firmness 
and  decision  of  character  :  — 

"  I  am  truly  thankful  to  you  for  your  kind  letter,  as  well  as  for 
the  pamphlet.     I  was  a  little  uncertain  as  to  the  course  which  you 


184o.]  CHUllCH   OF  THE  ADVENT.  377 

might  think  proper  to  take  in  regard  to  that  extraordinary  commu- 
nication of  the  bishop,  althougli  I  was  perfectly  satisfied  that  what- 
ever you  might  do  in  the  premises  would  be  just  what  the  occa- 
sion required.  I  am  delighted  with  the  manner  in  which  you  have 
treated  the  subject  —  calm,  dignified,  and  consistent  with  your  char- 
acter, as  a  man  and  minister  of  God's  holy  Church,  and,  at  the  same 
time,  conclusive  in  argument  and  forcible  in  appeal.  It  was,  indeed, 
a  matter  of  surprise  to  me  that  the  bishop,  whom  I  wish  to  honor 
and  esteem,  should  so  far  have  mistaken  his  duty  by  giving  way  to 
excited  feelings  as  to  endeavor,  by  '  indirect  means,'  to  throw  odium 
upon  one  of  the  most  worthy  of  his  presbyters,  and  to  place  under 
the  ban  of  ecclesiastical  censure  a  parish  that  deserves  only  encour- 
agement and  praise.  But  in  these  days  of '  rebuke  and  blasphemy,' 
of  selfish  purposes  and  party  organizations,  we  ought  not  to  be 
astonished  at  any  thing.  It  is  enough  to  know  that  we  must  suffer 
as  well  as  labor ;  and  from  whatever  source  our  trials  may  proceed, 
there  is  great  comfort  and  satisfaction  in  the  belief  that  He  '  whose 
we  are,  and  whom  we  serve,'  will  guide  us  by  his  grace  and  defend 
us  by  his  power.  The  spirit  with  which  you  have  written  is  an 
assurance  to  your  friends  that  you  are  rightly  armed  in  the  cause 
of  truth  and  righteousness,  and  that  no  enemy  will  be  permitted  to 
have  the  advantage  over  you.  I  trust  that,  under  the  protection  of 
Him  who  walks  in  the  midst  of  his  '  golden  candlesticks,'  you  will 
go  on  in  prosperity,  '  in  nothing  terrified  '  by  adversaries  from  with- 
out or  within  ;  and  that  neither  prejudice  nor  misrepresentation  will 
disturb  your  peace  or  interfere  with  your  usefulness." 

The  next  extracts  are  cited  from  the  letters  of  two  presbyters  of 
the  diocese  of  New  York  —  both  of  whom  are  of  high  standing  in 
the  Church,  are  somewhat  advanced  in  age,  and  have  ever  been 
ranked  among  the  most  conservative  of  their  brethren  :  — 

The  first  says,  "  I  have  just  received  and  read  your  reply  to 
Bishop  Eastburn.  I  have  not  time  now  to  write  at  length  ;  but  I 
cannot  allow  a  moment  to  pass  without  thanking  you  for  the  copy 
I  received,  and  assuring  you  that  my  whole  heart  goes  with  it. 
Under  almost  any  circumstances  that  I  could  have  conceived  of,  my 
feelings  would  have  been  very  strongly  in  favor  of  passive  submission. 
These  are  days  in  which  we  need  the  strongest  examples  of  defer- 
ence to  those  who  sit  in  the  seat  of  the  apostles.  But  considering 
the  state  of  the  public  mind,  and  the  nature  of  this  wretched  appeal 
to  popular  passion  and  prejudice,  I  declare  I  could  not  see  how  you 
could,  in  duty  to  the  Church  or  to  yourself,  refrain  from  uplifting 
your  '  testimony.'  .  .  .  May  God  guide  and  prosper  you,  and 
turn  this  trial  altogether  into  good." 

The  other  writes  more  at  length  :  "  I  was  not  only  '  deeply  hurt 
and  aggrieved  '  at  the  unworthy  treatment  you  have  recently  met 
with,  but  more  indignant,  I  fear,  than  your  meek  nature  would 
48 


378  MEMOm   OF  WILLIAM    CROS^^^LL.  [1845. 

permit  you  to  be.  As  to  what  course  you  would  pursue  I  felt  uncer- 
tain ;  but  I  knew  that  it  would  be  wise,  Christian-spirited,  and  gen- 
tlemanly. It  is  all  this  and  more,  if  more  could  be  expressed. 
Nothing  could  have  been  better,  more  appropriate,  or,  as  I  should 
suppose,  more  effective.  I  cannot  see  a  point  in  statement,  argu- 
ment, or  expression  that  could  be  altered  with  improvement.  I 
received  the  letter  last  evening,  and  have  read  it,  with  the  resolutions 
of  the  vestry,  several  times.  The  resolutions  are  admirable.  God 
be  praised  that  you  have  such  a  body  of  laity  about  you.  I  see  in 
this  movement  a  step  in  advance  for  sound  Church  principles 
and  practices,  not  only  with  you,  but  throughout  the  Church  in  our 
liemisphere.  This,  if  done  in  a  corner,  will  resound  throughout 
the  land.  Be  of  good  courage,  therefore,  and  our  shame  and  mor- 
tification at  such  an  Episcopal  ebullition  (for  we  must  all  feel  this 
sentiment  far  more  than  we  do  exultation  at  your  triumphant  vindi- 
cation) will  be  turned  into  thankfulness  to  Him  who  makes  the  wrath 
of  men  to  praise  him." 

The  following  warm-hearted  salutation  is  from  an  ardent  young 
brother  in  a  more  distant  diocese  :  — 

"  May  you  have  a  good  deliverance  !  You  have  done  well  in  the 
stand  you  have  taken  ;  and  kept  such  temper  under  the  provocation 
as,  I  am  sure,  few  of  us  could  command." 

The  opinions  expressed  in  the  following  extracts  are  those  of  a 
presbyter  of  another  diocese,  who,  from  his  own  showing,  must 
have  written  with  calm  deliberation,  and  without  personal  or  party 
prejudice :  — 

"  I  have  read  Bishop  Eastburn's  letter  to  the  clergy  of  his  dio- 
cese, and  feel  confident  that  the  impression  which  it  was  adapted  to 
produce  on  some  minds  must  be  unjust  and  injurious.  It  was  with 
great  satisfaction,  therefore,  that  I  read  your  letter  to  the  bishop  in 
your  own  defence.  As  you  know,  I  have  not  the  pleasure  of  a  per- 
sonal acquaintance  with  you,  and  consequently  am  not  influenced 
by  partiality  in  the  opinions  which  I  have  formed  on  the  case.  I 
may  say  further,  that  there  is  nothing  peculiar,  either  in  the  arrange- 
ments of  the  church  in  which  I  officiate  as  rector,  nor  in  my  mode 
of  conducting  the  service.  Nay,  I  am  rather  averse  to  some  things 
which  you  and  your  wardens  and  vestry  approve.  But  I  must  say 
that  I  think  your  treatment  by  Bishop  Eastburn  was  unjust,  unkind, 
injudicious,  and  uncalled  for,  and  adapted  to  disturb  the  peace  of 
the  Church.  I  cannot  admire,  approve,  or  envy,  either  the  matter, 
the  manner,  or  the  tone  of  tiie  bishop's  letter.  Even  if  his  motives 
and  his  feelings  were  pure,  and  had  he  felt  constrained  by  duty  to 
use  his  legitimate  influence  and  his  canonical  authority  to  secure  an 
alteration,  his  letter  was  precipitate,  unfeeling,  and  unworthy  of 
your  '  right  reverend  father  in  God.'  It  was,  therefore,  with  great 
satisfaction  that  I  read  your  manly  and  masterly  defence.     I  see 


1845.]  CHTJECH   OF  THE   ADVENT.  379 

nothing  in  matter,  manner,  or  spirit  to  condemn,  but  much  to  admire 
and  approve.  I  most  sincerely  sympatliize  with  you,  and  trust  that 
God  will  give  you  grace  and  strength  to  maintain  yourself  in  the 
Uberty  wherewith  Christ  and  the  Church  have  made  you  free,  and 
to  preserve  the  Christian  temper  which  pervades  your  letter.  I 
rejoice  that  you  have  wardens  and  vestrymen  able  and  willing,  under 
God,  to  sustain  you  in  the  midst  of  your  trials.  My  approval  and 
sympathy  are  of  small  moment  to  a  man  of  your  principles  and 
position  ;  but  to  gratify  my  own  feelings,  and  do  an  act  of  simple 
justice  to  a  distant  brother,  I  have  written  these  lines." 

This,  also,  is  from  a  presbyter  of  a  distant  diocese  :  — 

"  I  received  to-day  through  the  post  office  a  copy  of  your  letter 
to  the  bishop  of  Massachusetts,  occasioned  by  his  letter  to  the  clergy. 
I  seize  my  pen,  in  the  first  place,  to  thank  you  for  it.  .  .  .  In 
the  second  jjlace,  I  beg  to  assure  you  of  my  sympathy  under  what 
1  cannot  but  look  upon  as  a  most  unkind  and  wanton  attack.  If  I 
may  judge  from  this  distance,  and  knowing  nothing  except  from  your 
letter  about  the  matter,  it  seems  to  me  that  the  manner  in  which  the 
bishop  makes  his  onset  \\'\\\  counteract  itself,  and  shield  you.  His 
sharp  and  bitter  and  overstrong  expressions  strike  me  as  wholly  out 
of  place  and  uncalled  for.  ...  I  am  much  pleased  with  the 
tone  and  spirit  of  your  letter.  '  Studying  to  be  quiet,'  may  we  all 
be  so,  trusting  that  He  who  bore  the  cross  for  us  ^vill  enable  us  to 
bear  it  after  him." 

Many  other  letters  from  clergymen  of  age  and  Christian  experi- 
ence —  some  of  whom  have  since  been  called  to  their  reward  — 
express  similar  sentiments  ;  conveyed,  indeed,  in  many  instances,  in 
language  of  strong  indignation  against  the  oppressor  ;  while,  in  every 
case,  the  course  pursued  by  the  rector  and  his  vestry  is  entirely  and 
cordially  approved. 

It  is  needless  to  say  how  much  his  father  was  moved  by  this  un- 
warrantable assault  upon  the  reputation  of  a  beloved  son.  He  saw, 
on  one  hand,  an  assailant,  buoyed  up  by  official  power  and  influence  ; 
on  the  other  a  humble  subordinate,  with  nothing  but  his  Christian 
integrity  and  faith  in  God  to  sustain  the  shock.  Still,  with  such 
"  fearful  odds  "  against  his  son,  he  could  not  doubt  the  result.  With 
an  honest  parental  pride,  he  saw  with  what  prudence,  and  judgment, 
and  Christian  grace  the  young  soldier  of  the  cross  interposed  the 
shield  of  truth  against  tlie  shafts  of  one  who,  without  cause,  had 
made  himself  an  adversary.  Contributing,  therefore,  as  far  as  pos- 
sible, by  his  counsel  and  encouragement,  to  fortify  and  sustain  him 
in  the  conflict,  he  cheerfully  and  in  good  faith  committed  his  cause 
to  God. 

It  has  been  said  already  that  the  scene  in  the  Church  of  the 
Advent,  after  the  confimnation,  was  an  incipient  step  on  the  part  of 
the   bishop,  in  a  series  of  measures,  hostile  to  the  interests  of  the 


380  MEMOm   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1846. 

parish  and  its  rector.  That  there  is  no  mistake  in  this  assertion, 
will  be  roved  by  the  succeeding  narrative.  It  will  be  perceived 
that  there  was  no  relaxation  in  the  policy  of  the  bishop  towards  the 
Church  of  ti)e  Advent,  nor  in  his  harsh  and  tyrannical  treatment  of 
the  rector,  until  death  closed  the  labors,  the  cares,  and  the  trials  of 
this  faithful  servant  of  Christ,  and  left  the  bishop  to  reflect  on  the 
wrongs  that  he  had  inflicted  on  an  unoffending  laborer  in  the  vine- 
yard over  which  God  had  given  him  the  stewardship. 


1846. 


An  incident  very  soon  occurred  which  sufficiently  shows  that  no 
wrong  has  been  done  to  the  bishop  in  imputing  to  him  a  settled 
hostility  to  the  Church  of  the  Advent.  On  Sunday,  the  18th  of 
January,  a  young  clergyman,  who  was  visiting  his  parents  in  Boston, 
had  officiated  in  the  morning  at  the  Church  of  the  Advent.  But 
having  accepted  an  invitation  from  the  Rev.  Mr.  Watson,  assistant 
minister  of  Trinity  Church,  to  preach  for  hira  in  the  afternoon,  he 
accordingly  repaired  thither  for  the  purpose  of  fulfilling  his  engage- 
ment. "  The  bishop,"  says  the  letter  which  relates  the  incident, 
"had  been  apprised  of  it,  and  assented  to  the  arrangement.  He  re- 
ceived Mr. very  pleasantly,  inquired  after  his  father,  and,  while 

he  was  preparing  to  put  on  his  robes,  asked  what  he  had  been  doing 
with  himself  in  the  morning.  replied  that  he  had  been  offi- 
ciating. Bishop.  '  Where  ?  '  Reply.  '  For  the  Rev.  Mr.  Ckos- 
WELL.'  Bishop.  '  Then  I  must  tell  you  that  you  cannot  preach 
here.  After  the  course  which  I  have  taken  with  regard  to  the  Church 
of  the  Advent,  I  cannot  allow  you,  with  any  consistency,  to  go  into 
this   pulpit.'     He  repeated   the  same  idea  in  various  ways,  to  which 

,  with  his  characteristic  meekness,  simply  replied,  '  that  he  was 

not  aware  that  it  involved  any  inconsistency.'  But  the  bishop  ended 
the  conversation  with  the  remark,  that  he  must  be  the  judge  of  that  ; 
and  our  young  friend  took  his  hat  and  went  to  St.  Paul's.  His  fa- 
ther and  friends  (who  had  come  to  Trinity  Church  to  hear  him) 
were  sitting  without,  waiting  for  him  to  make  his  appearance ;  and 
had  no  idea,  until  the  service  was  over,  what  had  been  the  matter. 
.  .  .  The  clergy  who  have  heard  of  it  are  very  indignant,  and 
regard  it  as  a  wanton  and  unprovoked  insult.  .  .  .  Everybody 
inquires,  as  if  we  had  not  yet  reached  the  '  ne  plus  ultra,'  What 
will  come  next  1  or  whose  turn  will  it  be  ?  .  .  .  His  father  called 
on  the  bishop  for  explanation,  but  got  no  satisfaction.  He  said,  more- 
over, tliat  he  should  make  it  a  rule  for  the  future  to  deal  in  the 
same  way  with  those  who  preached  at  the  Advent." 


1846.]  CHURCH   OF  THE   ADVENT.  381 

In  carrying  out  these  designs,  the  bishop  had  a  subservient  press 
to  flatter  and  encourage  him ;  and  while  the  party  papers  were  thus 
ministering  to  his  pride  and  self-complacency,  they  were  notoriously 
unscrupulous  in  their  mode  of  assault  upon  the  Church  of  the  Ad- 
vent. Proposing  to  send  a  copy  of  one  of  these  papers  to  his  father, 
he  says,  "  I  will  send  it,  that  you  may  see  how  far  the  force  of  party 
malignity  can  go,  and  how  bent  these  men  are  on  their  own  destruc- 
tion. Every  paragraph  of  this  description  sends  new  recruits  to 
the  Church  of  the  Advent,  and  in  the  end  will  be  overruled  to  great 
good."  Such,  indeed,  proved  to  be  the  fact.  Their  place  of  wor- 
ship was  uniformly  well  filled,  and  sometimes  crowded,  and  much 
ardor  and  enthusiasm  prevailed.      "  Nothing  has  transpired,"  he  says, 

"  of  public  concern,  since  Mr. 's  affair  ;  but  there  is  no  saying 

what  unaccountable  thing  the  bishop  may  take  it  in  his  head  to  do 
nexto"  Speaking  of  some  proposed  exchanges,  he  says,  "  The 
clergy,  some  of  them,  manifest  an  anxiety  to  be  known  as  hav- 
ing officiated  at  the  Advent,  notwithstanding  the  bishop's  injunc- 
tion." 

The  following  is  the  substance  of  a  letter  of  January  21,  addressed 
to  the  agent  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Sunday  School  Union,  and 
will  sufficiently  explain  itself:  "In  reply  to  your  favor  of  the  17th, 
enclosing  the  request  of  the  executive  committee  of  the  Protestant 
Episcopal  Sunday  School  Union  that  I  would  undertake  the  revisal 
of  their  Sunday  School  psalms  and  hymns,  I  hasten  to  say  that  I  feel 
a  deep  interest  in  this  portion  of  their  work  ;  but  that  my  impression 
is  most  decided,  that  it  would  be  much  easier  to  make  a  good  collec- 
tion de  novo  than  to  attempt  to  amend  the  old  one.  I  have  long  had 
the  idea  in  my  mind  of  what  such  a  book  should  be,  but  have  done 
little  or  nothing  towards  realizing  it,  and  the  materials  within  my 
reach  are  of  the  scantiest  description.     Still  I  have  little  doubt  that 

I  could    secure   the  assistance    of  Messrs. , ,  and  other  of 

our  own  poets,  and  by  making  what  we  could  not  find,  —  and  com- 
posing only  where  we  could  not  better  compile,  —  something  could 
be  easily  arranged,  which  would  harmonize  with  the  spirit  of  our 
services  and  the  order  of  the  Christian  year,  and  be  '  taking,'  as 
the  phrase  is,  not  only  with  children,  but  with  all  childlike  hearts. 
I  should  be  unwilling,  however,  to  engage  in  it  without  having  placed 
at  my  command  some  of  the  choice  collections  of  verse  of  this  de- 
scription, original  and  translated,  which  have  been  issued  within  a 
few  years  in  our  motherland,  casual  specimens  of  which,  floating 
in  some  of  our  periodicals,  have  charmed  me  with  their  exquisite 
simplicity,  and  their  true,  church-like  tone.  I  should  expect  the 
committee  to  furnish  me  with  these  to  a  reasonable  extent.  The 
rest  would  be  a  labor  of  love.  If  the  committee  think  proper  to 
engage   me  on  these  terms,  I  am  ready  to   commence   at   once. 


382  MEMOIR    OF   WITXIAM   CROSWELL.  [1846. 

One  thing  I  would  suggest  furtlier  ;  and  that  is,  that  I  have  no  de- 
sire that  it  should  appear  in  any  more  pretending  form  than  that  of 
the  selection  which  you  sent  me,  and  indeed  should  be  anxious  that 
its  purchase  should  be  within  the  means  of  the  poorest  child  among 
us.  I  have  no  sympathy  with  the  disposition  which  has  been  mani- 
fested, of  late,  to  get  up  children's  books  in  an  ambitious  and  extrav- 
agant style  ;  and  would  discourage  it  by  example  and  precept,  so  far 
as  it  lay  in  my  power.  It  has  occurred  to  me,  as  I  write,  that  it 
would  correspond  with  the  purposes  for  which  it  would  be  con- 
structed, and  not  be  an  unpoetical  conception  to  call  it  The  Children 
IN  THE  Temple  ;  and  to  admit  nothing  within  it  that  might  not  be 
kindred  in  its  spirit  with  their  Hosanna  to  the  Son  of  David  !  "  In 
transmitting  a  copy  of  this  letter  to  his  father,  he  says,  "  I  think  it 
more  important  to  do  this  work  well  than  at  first  might  seem  ;  be- 
cause it  may  have  an  important  influence  on  that  revolution  in  our 
metre  psalmody,  as  a  portion  of  public  worship,  which  every  cath- 
olic heart  must  sigh  for."  In  a  subsequent  letter,  he  informs  his  fa- 
ther that  the  executive  committee  had  authorized  him  to  proceed 
with  his  work,  in  all  respects,  according  to  his  own  suggestions ; 
"  and,"  he  says,  "  I  do  but  wait  the  arrival  of  a  package  of  the 
books  which  they  are  collecting  for  me,  to  commence  the  arrange- 
ment of  the  hymns  for  the  '  Children  in  the  Temple.' "  Having 
learned,  however,  that  Keble  had  at  this  time  in  the  course  of  pub- 
lication a  new  book  on  a  similar  plan,  but  entirely  original,  and 
having  also  received  from  the  executive  committee  some  further 
suggestions  with  regard  to  a  larger  collection  of  church  poetry,  he 
seems  to  have  suspended  the  prosecution  of  his  plan  ;  and,  so  far  as 
can  be  discovered,  he  never  found  time  to  carry  it  into  execution.  It 
is  certain  that  no  such  work  was  issued  from  the  press  of  the  union  ; 
and  nothing  can  be  found,  beyond  a  few  samples  among  his  loose 
papers,  to  show  that  he  ever  made  any  considerable  progress  in  the 
undertaking. 

The  following  hymns  were  not  probably  designed  to  form  any  part 
of  this  collection.  Though  without  date,  they  were  evidently  writ- 
ten at  an  earlier  period.  They  are  inserted  here  merely  to  show 
his  facility  in  accommodating  poetical  numbers  to  the  capacities  of 
the  juvenile  mind. 


HYMN  FOR  THE   INFANT   SCHOOL   OF   CHRIST   CHURCH, 
BOSTON. 


Though  steep  and  narrow  is  the  way. 

And  perilous  each  stair, 
How  many  little  feet  to-day 

Have  safely  clambered  there ! 


1846.]  CHURCH   OF  THE   ADVENT. 

And  thus,  whate'er  life's  trials  be, 
Still  upward  may  they  press, 

Till  with  their  angels  they  shall  see 
God's  face  in  righteousness. 

Here  be  faith's  ladder  fixed  secure 

Whereon  their  souls  may  rise, 
And  make,  through  Christ,  their  entrance  sure 

To  mansions  in  the  skies. 
And  on  that  day  when  last  are  first, 

And  heaven's  high  gates  draw  near, 
O,  be  it  theirs  to  hear  the  burst 

Of  welcome,  "  Come  up  here ! " 


A  SUNDAY   SCHOOL  HYMN. 

The  sparrow  finds  a  house. 

The  little  bird  a  nest ; 
Deep  in  thy  dwelling,  Lord,  they  come, 

And  fold  their  young  to  rest. 
And  shall  ive  be  afraid 

Our  little  ones  to  bring 
Within  thine  ancient  altar's  shade, 

And  underneath  thy  wing  ? 

There  guard  them  as  thine  eye, 

There  keep  them  without  spot, 
That  when  the  spoiler  passeth  by 

Destruction  touch  them  not. 
There  nerve  their  souls  with  might. 

There  nurse  them  with  thy  love. 
There  plume  them  for  their  final  flight 

To  blessedness  above. 


At  this  time,  when  daily  prayer  was  offered  both  morning  and 
evening  at  the  Advent,  and  when  his  pastoral  duties  were  unusually 
engrossing,  he  was  still  enabled,  by  divine  assistance,  to  dismiss  all 
disturbing  and  vexatious  thoughts,  and  to  tune  his  heart  and  his 
harp  to  strains  of  sweet  sympathy  and  condolence.  He  had  heard 
of  the  deep  affliction  of  the  friend  and  companion  of  his  youth, 
Henry  Edward  Peck,  who  ha?l  been  his  schoolfellow  and  his 
classmate  in  college,  with  whom  he  had  ever  cherished  the  most 
close  and  intimate  relations,  and  Avith  whom  he  had  stood,  as  the 
friend  of  the  bridegroom,  at  his  marriage.     This  friend  had  been 


384  MEMOIR  OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1846. 

bereaved  of  his  eldest  child,  a  son  of  great  promise,  who,  at  the 
age  of  fifteen,  was  just  entering  upon  his  course  of  collegiate  edu- 
cation. Writing  to  his  father,  he  says,  "  I  grieve  to  hear  of  the 
calamity  that  has  overtaken  our  dear  friends  in  the  death  of  their 
first  born.  I  will  endeavor  to  send  them  words  of  comfort,  and 
remember  them  in  my  prayers."  The  following  lines  show  how 
well  this  resolution  was  fulfilled :  — 


AD  AMICUM. 

Friend  of  my  early  youth, 

Whom  each  succeeding  year, 
Disclosing  depths  of  love  and  truth, 

Has  made  to  me  more  dear. 
The  spell  at  length  is  burst 

That  kept  me  dumb  so  long, 
And  at  my  heart,  as  at  the  first, 

Old  friendship's  pulse  is  strong. 

The  scales  fall  from  our  eyes, 

Nor  darkly  now  we  see 
How  youngest  hearts  may  realize 

That  life  is  vanity. 
How  valueless  now  seem 

Its  passing  smiles  and  tears  ! 
Like  dreams  remembered  in  a  dream 

Its  imagery  appears. 

O,  lovely  was  the  sight. 

When  last  I  saw  thy  son, 
And  hailed  the  promise  with  delight 

With  which  his  youth  begun. 
It  brought  to  mind  the  days 

Of  our  own  golden  age, 
Ere  yet  we  took  the  separate  ways 

Of  manhood's  pilgrimage. 

As  in  that  fairyland 

Through  which  we  trod  when  boys, 
Pursuing  ever,  hand  in  hand. 

Our  studies  and  our  joys. 
We  saw  him  pressmg  o'er 

The  selfsame  pleasant  road 
Where  we  had  passed  so  long  before 

To  learning's  high  abode. 


CHURCH  OF  THE  ADVENT.  3a5 

But  ah,  how  soon  the  train 

Of  visions  melts  like  foam  ! 
We  search  for  that  sweet  face  in  vain 

In  thy  afflicted  home. 
How  hast  thou  borne  the  blow 

By  which  the  wreck  was  made  ? 
And  tears  that  in  such  anguish  flow, 

How  shall  their  course  be  stayed  ? 

I,  that  did  once  rejoice 

To  be  the  bridegroom's  friend. 
Till  I  can  cheer  thee  with  my  voice, 

Some  soothing  strain  would  send. 
But  who  but  God  can  dry 

The  fountains  of  your  grief? 
And  when  the  merry  hearted  sigh, 

Who  else  can  give  relief? 

O,  in  this  dark  eclipse. 

Though  all  be  gloom  beneath, 
Methinks  I  hear  some  angel  lips 

These  words  of  comfort  breathe : 
"Believers,  doubt  not  this  — 

All  that  God  takes,  and  more. 
In  that  approaching  world  of  bliss 

He  will,  through  Christ,  restore." 


W.  C. 


Boston,  March  12,  1846. 


In  a  letter  to  bis  parents,  under  date  of  Easter  Tuesday,  he 
writes,  "  I  know  that  you  will  be  anxiously  looking  for  us  at  New 
Haven  every  hour  about  this  time,  and  I  wish  that  I  had  some  more 
satisfactory  apology  for  not  having  apprised  you  of  my  intentions. 
During  Passion  Week,  it  was  so  that  we  had  matins  and  even  song 
every  day,  and  lectures  in  addition,  of  which  (including  the  Sundays 
and  the  two  days  in  Easter  week)  I  have  prepared  and  preached 
nine.  Besides  our  parochial  services,  there  have  been  many  painful 
and  exciting  duties  and  occuj)ations,  growing  out  of  the  ti'oubles  in 
Trinity  Church  and  Mr.  Watson's  resignation.  This  was  an 
unexpected  step,  and  one  which  his  clerical  brethren  would  not  prob- 
ably have  advised.  It  seemed,  moreover,  not  absolutely  necessary, 
from  the  very  overpowering  number  of  his  friends  among  the  pro- 
prietors. These  have  not  been  diminished  by  this  act,  but  increased 
rather,  while  tlie  excitement  against  the  author  of  the  persecution 
which  has  driven  him  away  is  prodigious.  I  have  no  doubt  it  is  all  for 
the  best."     It  is  not  designed,  in  these  pages,  to  enter  at  all  into  the 


386  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1846. 

merits  of  this  controversy  between  the  bishop,  as  rector  of  Trinity 
Church,  and  the  proprietors,  touching  liis  treatment  of  Mr.  Watson. 
Tlie  whole  affair  was  spread  before  the  pubhc  at  the  time,  and  was 
doubtless  well  understood.  After  giving  a  brief  statement  of  the  case 
in  his  letter,  and  mentioning  the  departure  of  Mr.  Watson,  he  adds, 
"  They  had  a  dull  Easter  at  the  cathedral,  (Trinity  Church,)  like 
the  passover  to  the  Egyptians ;  but  the  children  of  Israel  at  the 
Advent  had  light  in  their  dwellings.  Our  services  were  very 
animated  and  delightful,  and  the  daily  prayers  have  been  much  fre- 
quented. There  is  no  prospect,  at  present,  of  their  forsaking  the 
assembling  of  themselves  together  around  our  altar."  He  speaks 
very  gratefully  of  a  valuable  Easter  gift,  received  from  the  ladies  of 
the  parish  as  a  token  of  their  interest ;  and  after  making  his  arrange- 
ments for  the  proposed  visit,  he  concludes,  "  We  are  all  well  at  this 
present,  and  have  great  cause  to  rejoice  that  we  have  been  carried 
through  much  arduous  duty  with  so  little  weariness." 

Although,  as  just  remarked,  it  is  not  designed  to  meddle  with  the 
controversy  between  the  right  reverend  rector  and  the  proprietors 
of  Trinity  Church,  yet  it  may  be  proper  to  give  place  to  the  two  fol- 
lowing resolutions,  introduced,  among  others,  by  William  H.  Gar- 
diner, Esq.,  at  a  meeting  of  the  corporation  of  Trinity  Church, 
May  4,  1846,  and  passed  with  almost  entire  unanimity.  It  will  be 
perceived,  that  w^hile  the  first  pointedly  disapproves  of  the  party 
ground  assumed  by  the  bishop  in  his  dealings  with  his  clergy,  the 
other  is  equally  opposed  to  the  rule  avowed  by  him  for  excluding 
from  the  ministrations  of  his  church  such  clergymen  as  happened  to 
differ  with  him  in  certain  narrow  theological  views  and  opinions, 
and  especially  those  who  had  officiated  at  the  Church  of  the 
Advent  :  — 

'■'■Resolved,  That  the  proprietors  of  this  church  have  not  viewed 
with  indifference  the  questions  which  of  late  years  have  divided  and 
greatly  agitated  the  whole  Protestant  Episcopal  communion  ;  but, 
on  the  contrary,  avoiding  themselves  all  participation  in  such  con- 
troversies, they  have  viewed  these  dissensions  among  brethren  of  the 
same  church  with  unmingled  dissatisfaction,  and  intend,  if  it  be  pos- 
sible, that  all  such  matters  of  dissension  shall  be  utterly  excluded 
from  the  walls  within  which  they  and  their  ancestors,  for  more  than 
one  hundred  years,  have  peacefully  worshipped. 

"  Resolved,  That  the  proprietors  of  this  church  do  not  recognize 
nor  admit,  as  a  just  and  appropriate  means  of  advancing  the  cause 
of  true  religion,  the  principle  of  exclusion  from  the  altar  or  the  pul- 
pit of  clergymen  of  regular  standing  in  the  Protestant  Episcopal 
Church,  and  otherwise  well  approved  for  piety,  learning,  and  a 
blameless  life,  and  conforming  to  the  settled  usages  and  forms  of 
worship  in  this  church,  for  the  cause  of  theological  views  or  opinions 
not  involving  a  case  for  ecclesiastical  censure  on  the  score  of  non- 


1846.]  CHURCH   OF  THE   ADVENT.  387 

conformity  to  the  doctrines  of  the  church  of  which  they  ])rofess  to 
be  members." 

But  this  pointed  rebuke  had  no  effect  in  cahning  the  hostile  pohcy 
of  the  bishop  towards  the  Church  of  the  Advent  and  its  rector.  It 
will  be  perceived,  before  the  record  of  the  j)resent  year  is  concluded, 
that  the  episcopal  power  was  exercised  in  other  modes  of  annoyance. 
But  it  may  be  remarked,  in  passing,  that  these  hostile  measures, 
instead  of  checking,  rather  promoted  the  flow  of  good  feeling  from 
other  quarters.  The  gift  of  a  beautifid  alms  chest  from  the  Lord 
Bishop  of  Frederickton  was  among  the  gratifying  tokens  of  regard 
for  the  interests  of  the  parish  ;  and  the  following  extract  will  show 
how  it  was  appreciated  by  the  rector.  Writing  to  his  father  May 
11,  he  says,  "  Our  alms  chest  made  its  first  appearance  in  the  porch 
of  the  church  this  morning.  It  is  greatly  to  be  admired,  and  will 
attract  much  attention.  I  do  not  know  that  it  will  escape  episcopal 
censure  as  a  thing  of  superstitious  devices.  I  hope  it  will  serve  the 
great  end  designed,  in  keeping  in  mind  those  of  Christ's  poor  who 
are  ever,  according  to  his  prediction,  and  for  our  sakes,  to  be  with 
us.      God  bless  them  !  " 

Another  significant  token  of  respect  for  the  rector,  and  of  confi- 
dence in  his  ministerial  principles  and  practice,  may  be  found  in  the 
fact,  that,  at  the  annual  commencement  of  Trinity  College,  the  hon- 
orary degree  of  doctor  of  divinity  was  conferred  upon  him.  He 
was  unavoidably  prevented  from  attending  on  this  occasion  ;  and  to 
show  how  wholly  this  honor  was  unexpected,  and  how  it  was 
received  by  him,  it  is  only  necessary  to  cite  the  language  of  a  pri- 
vate letter  to   his  father,  August  9  :   "  Brother was  here  on 

Friday,  and  left  his  card  for  the  Rev.  Dr.  Croswell,  but  it  was  not 
until  some  hours  afterwards  that  I  waked  up  to  the  consciousness 
of  the  very  unexpected  accident  that  had  befallen  me  at  the  com- 
mencement of  Trinity  College.  I  regard  it  as  a  result  towards 
which  our  good  bishop's  pastoral  has  been  mainly  instrumental ;  and 
I  know  not  whether  I  ought  to  ask  for  condolence  as  much  as  con- 
gratulation. I  need  not  say  that  I  have  not  been  emulous  of  dis- 
tinction of  this  sort  ;  and  I  must  be  both  older  and  wiser  than  I  had 
thought,  if  it  be  not  both  undeserved  and  premature.  I  feel  quite 
sure  that  it  will  be  regarded  by  contemporaries  as  the  consequence 
of  undue  favoritism,  and  make  my  seniors  jealous.  I  have  ever 
wondered  that  men  should  be  anxious  to  win  that  which  is  so  certain 
to  work  their  disparagement  on  the  part  of  their  fellows.  There 
are  but  few  figurative  crowns,  even,  that  are  not  crowns  of  thorns. 
Per  contra,  and  notwithstanding,  — so  far  as  the  honor  is  an  unsought 
and  undreamed-of  token  of  confidence  in  my  clerical  fidelity  to  the 
old  landmarks,  at  a  time  when  so  much  effort  has  been  made  to 
throw  distrust  and  suspicion  upon  my  course,  —  I  frankly  confess 


388  IMEISIOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1846. 

that  I  do  most  highly  value  these  honors,  and   doubt  not  that  many 
fi'iends,  as  they  do  here,  will  share  in  my  gratification." 

The   next  phase  in  the  bishop's  hostile  policy  is  developed  in  the 
following  correspondence,  which  is  given  entire  :  — 


Correspondence  on  Confirmation. 


To  THE  Right  Reverend  Manton  Eastburn,  D.  D., 

Bishop  of  the  Diocese  of  Massachusetts. 
Right  Reverend  Sir  :  I  beg  leave  respectfidly  to  represent  that 
there  are  several  persons  in  my  parish  who  have  been  for  some  time 
ready  and  desirous  to  be  confirmed.  By  making  an  appointment  at 
your  own  convenience  (the  canonical  notice  being  given)  to  visit 
our  chapel  and  administer  that  apostohc  rite,  you  will  greatly  oblige 
Yours,  faithfully  in  all  duty, 

W.  CROSWELL. 
Rector  of  the  Church  of  the  Advent. 
Boston,  November  23,  1846. 


II. 

Tremont  Street,  November  24,  1846. 

Reverend  and  dear  Sir:  I  received,  yesterday,  yours  of  that 
date,  requesting  me  to  visit  the  place  of  worship  of  your  parish,  for 
the  purpose  of  administering  the  rite  of  confirmation. 

I  can  assure  you  of  the  great  pleasure  it  gives  me  to  learn  from 
you  that  there  are  those  in  your  congregation  who  are  desirous  of 
ratifying  their  vows  to  God  in  that  solemn  ordinance,  and  of  my 
entire  readiness  to  gratify  your  wishes  in  reference  to  them,  if  the 
way  can  be  prepared  for  my  doing  so  consistently  with  what  I  feel 
to  be  my  own  duty.  But,  before  making  any  appointment,  I  feel  it 
right  to  learn  from  you  whether  such  an  alteration  will  be  previously 
made  of  the  arrangements  of  the  chapel,  and  of  the  mode  of  con- 
ducting divine  service  there,  as  shall  be  conformable  to  the  prevalent 
usage  of  our  Church  during  past  years.  I  indulge  the  persuasion 
that  you  and  your  vestry  will  see  the  propriety  of  according  to  my 
wishes  in  this  respect;  and  will  add,  that  if  you  should  think  a 
friendly  conference  between  us  on  the  subject  to  be  desirable,  the 
wish  will  be  cordially  responded  to  by  myself. 

In  the  event  of  no  sucli  alteration  being  made,  I  must  decline, 
though  with  great  pain,  visiting  your  chapel  for  the  performance  of 
the  interesting  service  which  you  request.  As  I  feel  it  to  be  right, 
however,  that  those  members  of  your  parish  to  whom  you  refer 
should  not,  on  this  account,  be  deprived  of  a  privilege  to  which  they 


1846.]  CHUKCH   OF  THE   ADVENT.  389 

are  entitled,  I  shall  be  ready  to  notify  you  of  the  time  and  place 
(the  latter  to  be,  of  course,  one  of  the  churches  in  Boston)  at  which 
I  will  administer  to  them  the  laying  on  of  hands,  as  soon  as  you 
shall  have  informed  me  that  the  candidates  will  be  ready  thus  to  meet 
me  for  the  purpose. 

I  am  very  truly  yours, 

MANTON   EASTBURN 
The  Rev.  Dr.  Ckoswell. 

ni. 

BSsTOX,  November  28,  1846. 

Right  Reverend  and  dear  Sir  :  I  have  to  acknowledge  the 
promptness  and  courtesy  of  your  reply  to  my  request  respecting 
your  visit  to  our  place  of  worship  for  the  purpose  of  administering 
confirmation,  and  to  express  my  regret  that  there  should  be  any 
obstacle  in  your  own  mind  in  the  way  of  your  making  an  appoint- 
ment for  that  purpose. 

I  am  under  necessity,  in  advance,  of  troubling  you  for  a  word  of 
explanation.  On  showing  your  letter  to  one  of  our  vestrymen,  he 
expressed  his  decided  conviction  that  the  alterations  which  you 
desire  to  have  previously  made  were  with  reference  merely  to  the 
occasion  of  your  visit ;  while  to  another  it  is  equally  clear  that  a 
pledge  to  adhere  permanently  to  certain  prescribed  changes  is  the 
condition  on  which  the  appointment  is  to  be  made.  This  difference 
of  opinion  has  created  a  doubt  in  my  own  mind  which  might  not 
otherwise  have  existed,  and  of  which  I  respectfully  ask  of  you  the  so- 
lution, in  order  that  we  may  proceed  in  this  matter  understandingly. 
Very  truly,  your  servant  and  presbyter, 

W.  CROSWELL. 
Right  Rev.  Dr.  E-istbukn. 

IV. 

Tremont  Steeet,  November  30,  1846. 
Reverend  and  dear  Sir  :  Yours  of  the  28th  instant  has  been 
received  ;  in  reply  to  which  I  would  say,  that  my  meaning  in  the 
communication  sent  to  you  was  that  of  a  permanent  alteration. 
I  am,  very  truly,  yours, 

MANTON   EASTBURN. 
The  Rev.  William  Ckoswell,  D.  D. 


V. 

Boston,  December  8,  1846. 
Right  Reverend  and  dear  Sir  :  I  was  truly  concerned  to  find,  by 
your  note  of  explanation  of  the  30th  ultimo,  that  a  compliance  with 


390  MEMOIR   OF  ^VILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1846. 

your  own  prefei-ences,  as  to  modes  of  worship  on  the  occasion  of 
administering  confirmation  at  our  chapel,  would  fall  far  short  of 
satisfying  your  demands.  It  had  been  the  unanimous  understanding 
between  the  vestry  and  myself,  that  the  arrangements  of  the  chancel, 
and  the  method  of  celebrating  divine  service,  should  on  that  occasion 
be  entirely  at  your  own  disposition,  and  we  were  prepared  to  take 
your  own  directions  with  regard  to  them.  Thus  much  we  were 
willing  to  concede,  for  the  sake  of  peace,  and  from  an  anxiety  to 
avoid  the  appearance  of  compelling  you  to  any  thing  like  a  compro- 
mise of  your  opinions,  or  that  might  seem  to  betray  a  disregard  of 
your  feelings.  At  the  same  time,  it  is  due  to  ourselves  to  say  that 
we  feel  even  such  a  requirement,  under  the  circumstances,  to  be  a 
dangerous  precedent,  and  not  therefore  to  be  yielded  as  a  matter  of 
right,  but  simply  with  a  view  to  prepare  the  way  for  the  administra- 
tion of  that  solemn  ordinance  "  consistently  with  what  you  feel  to 
be  your  own  duty." 

After  maturely  weighing  your  letter  with  this  explanation,  I  now 
understand  you  distinctly  to  require  nothing  less  than  this  —  as  a 
condition  absolute  and  precedent  to  the  discharge  of  episcopal 
offices  in  our  church,  viz.,  an  assurance  or  pledge  that  certain 
changes  sliall  be  made  in  our  arrangements  and  mode  of  conducting 
divine  service ;  and  that  these  alterations  shall  be  permanent  and 
continuous. 

Now,  I  fully  admit  that  there  may  be  departures,  not  from  the 
written  law  of  the  Church  only,  but  from  a  recognized  and  legiti- 
mate usage,  of  such  a  character  as  to  warrant  a  bishop  in  refusing 
to  perform  episcopal  offices  in  a  church  where  they  exist.  Yet  I 
do,  with  all  solejnnity,  protest  against  this  ground  being  taken  with 
reference  to  things  not  required  by  the  Church,  about  which  there 
is  admitted  doubt,  and  a  recognized  diversity  of  practice  and  opinion 
in  the  Church.  To  use  a  sort  of  interdict  in  order  to  compel  con- 
formity to  each  bishop's  private  tastes,  preferences,  and  opinions,  I 
cannot  but  feel  to  be  a  violation  of  the  rights  of  presbyters  and 
parishes.  It  is  not  possible  that  such  a  claim  should  be  submitted 
to  and  carried  out,  —  and  even  if  it  were,  though  I  do  not  mention 
it  as  a  reason,  yet  it  deserves  to  be  considered,  —  however  it  might 
seem  to  create  greater  uniformity  within  each  diocese  for  a  time,  it 
would  certainly  result  in  a  more  marked  difference  between  differ- 
ent dioceses,  and  in  the  same  diocese,  under  different  bishops. 

I  have  had  much  opportunity,  during  the  last  year,  carefully,  and 
I  may  say  daily,  to  consider  our  arrangements  and  mode  of  wor- 
ship, and  have  been  confirmed  in  all  my  previous  impressions  with 
regard  to  their  consistency  with  the  rubric,  as  expounded  by  the 
best  ritualists,  and  as  to  their  salutary  tendency  in  preserving  in  my 
own  mind,  and  that  of  my  fellow-worshippers,  the  reverence  which  is 
due  in  divine  ministrations.     It  is  freelv  conceded  that  there  are 


1846.]  CHURCH   OF  THE   ADVENT.  391 

points  in  which  they  difter  from  those  that  obtain  in  the  church 
of  which  you  are  rector,  and  from  those  which  generally  prevail  at 
present  in  this  neighborhood.  At  the  same  time,  it  cannot  be  denied 
that  these  very  usages  have  not  only  been  followed  without  objec- 
tion in  other  portions  of  the  Church,  but  have  received  the  sanction 
of  the  highest  authorities.  And  even  in  this  neighborhood,  as  the 
oldest  rector  in  this  city,  I  have  lived  to  see  various  diversities  of 
practice,  and  many  considerable  changes  in  the  arrangements  of 
chancels ;  and  it  would  be  easy  to  enumerate  particulars  in  which 
they  difter  on  points  where  the  Church  has  given  no  discretion.  In 
none  of  these  things,  I  am  satisfied,  has  the  parish  of  the  Advent 
gone  beyond  the  latitude  which  the  Church  allows,  or  offended 
against  either  the  letter  or  the  spirit  of  its  rules,  or  violated  its 
decent  or  seemly  order,  or  afforded  a  bishop  any  warrant  for  depriv- 
ing us  of  the  episcopal  visitation  and  oftlces  which  are  secured  to 
us  by  the  canons. 

Another  obvious  difficulty  is  suggested  by  your  requirement  of  a 
personal  promise  or  pledge  to  pursue  a  certain  course,  and  this,  too, 
not  for  a  special  occasion,  but  unlimited  in  its  terms.  When  I  was 
admitted  to  the  holy  order  of  deacons,  first,  and  then  of  the  priest- 
hood, in  addition  to  the  solemn  vows  of  ordination,  I  signed  a  decla- 
ration, in  which  I  engaged  "  to  conform  to  the  doctrine  and  imrship  of 
tJie  Protcstnnt  Episcopal  Church  in  the  United  States."  These  obliga- 
tions rest  upon  me  with  all  their  weight  at  this  moment ;  and  for  any 
offences  in  violation  of  them,  I  am  liable  to  canonical  proceedings. 
I  have  reason  to  object  to  giving  any  pledges  beyond  these  ;  and 
over  and  above  the  duties  put  upon  me  by  the  Church,  I  regard  the 
enacting  of  such  pledges  as  a  dangerous  precedent  —  especially 
when  required,  as  it  is  here,  under  the  penalty  of  cutting  off"  from 
important  privileges.  If  I  remember  Bishop  White's  commentary 
aright,  the  standard  by  which  the  bishop's  "  godly  admonitions  "  are 
to  be  directed,  are  the  various  established  institutions  of  the  Church, 
and  not  his  private  opinion.  "  The  Church,"  says  he,  "  is  under 
a  government  of  laio,  and  not  of  will."  If  the  assurance  which  you 
require  relates  to  the  established  institutions  of  the  Church,  then  it 
is  superfluous ;  if,  as  in  this  case,  it  is  for  something  beyond  those, 
and  for  the  purpose  of  securing  conformity  to  private  opinion,  or  lo- 
cal practice,  on  points  upon  which  there  are  diversities  of  opinion 
and  practice  in  the  Church,  then  the  requirement,  under  the  penalty 
which  you  have  affixed  to  it,  is  one  in  which  I  am  unwilling  to  in- 
volve myself;  and  the  claim  of  a  right  thus  to  demand  it,  I  feel 
bound,  on  general  principles,  to  withstand.  As  a  personal  matter, 
it  may  not  be  improper  for  me  to  allude  to  the  peculiarity  of  my 
position,  in  being  called  upon  privately  to  abandon  observances  for 
which  I  have  been,  in  the  most  public  manner,  censured  by  yourself, 
and  which  you  have  held  up  to  the  world  as  perilous  aild  degrading; 


392  MEMOIR   OF  \\TLLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1846. 

since  tlie  relinquishment  of  them,  under  such  circumstances,  could 
hardly  fail  to  be  regarded  as  an  admission  of  the  character  imputed 
to  them,  if  not  also  of  the  legality  of  that  act  of  censure. 

It  has  occurred  to  me  that  you  may  possibly  be  under  mistake  as 
to  what  is  actually  done  at  our  chapel.  We  know  that  there  have 
been  false  representations,  and  are  still,  to  some  extent,  false  im- 
pressions, abroad  on  the  subject ;  and  it  has  always  seemed  to  me 
that  your  circular  indicated  a  wrong  conception  of  our  usages.  Yet 
our  worship  is  public  and  daily,  and  nothing  is  concealed.  I  would 
call  your  attention  to  my  letter  of  December  6,  1845,  and  to  the  re- 
solves of  tlie  wardens  and  vestry  which  accompany  it,  as  containing 
a  full  and  fair  statement  of  our  arrangements  apd  mode  of  conduct- 
ing divine  service.  If  you  have  supposed  that  any  thing  else  is  done 
by  us  than  is  stated  in  those  documents,  we  shall  be  happy  to  cor- 
rect your  impressions,  or  to  conununicate  any  more  particular  infor- 
mation which  you  may  desire.  But  while  I  acknowledge  your  offer 
of  a  personal  conference,  yet,  after  what  has  taken  place,  and  in  con- 
sideration of  the  importance  of  the  subject,  I  think  you  will  agree 
with  me,  that  whatever  may  pass  between  us  should  not  be  left  to 
depend  upon  the  recollection  of  conversations ;  a  state  of  things 
which  is  always  embarrassing  to  the  parties,  and  especially  so  after 
any  considerable  lapse  of  time. 

If,  on  a  full  consideration  of  the  case,  you  adhere  to  your  deter- 
mination to  refuse  a  visitation,  I  have  no  other  alternative,  consistent 
with  a  due  regard  to  those  of  my  flock  who  would  otherwise  be 
deprived  of  privileges  to  which  they  are  entitled,  but  to  submit. 
Though  I  am  well  persuaded  of  their  readiness  to  meet  their  bishop 
wherever  he  may  appoint,  it  will  occur  to  you  that  there  may  be  strong 
preferences  as  to  place.  If  they  are  not  to  receive  confirmation  in  the 
place  where  they  have  received  their  deepest  religious  impressions 
and  been  knit  together  in  one,  and  at  the  foot  of  the  holy  altar  wliere 
some  of  them  have  already  made,  and  all  hope  to  make,  their  first 
communion,  I  trust  it  will  seem  but  reasonable  to  request  that  they 
will  not  be  required  to  attend  at  the  church  of  any  of  my  junior 
presbyters.  In  a  word,  if  the  bishop  refuses  to  come  to  us,  we 
hope,  at  least,  to  be  permitted  to  come  to  the  bishop  in  his  own 
cathedral  church.  Considering  also  the  age  and  circumstances  of 
some  of  the  candidates,  I  would  further  ask,  that  it  may  take  place 
on  the  Lord's  day,  and  at  tlie  usual  hour  of  morning  or  evening  ser- 
vice. On  any  Sunday  after  the  Epiphany  which  you  may  appoint, 
I  will  endeavor,  the  Lord  being  my  helper,  to  be  prepared  to  pre- 
sent myself  with  such  as  he  shall  have  given  me. 
I  remain,  right  reverend  and  dear  sir. 

Yours,  in  the  holy  office  of  priesthood, 

W.   CROSWELL. 
Right  Rev.  Canton  Eastbukn,  D.  D.,  Bisliop,  &c. 


1846.]  CHURCH   OF  THE   ADVENT.  393 

VI. 

Boston,  December  12,  1846. 
Reverend  and  dear  Sir  :  I  write  this  to  inform  you  tliat  I  shall 
hold  a  confirmation  in  Trinity  Church,  in  this  city,  on  the  morning 
of  the  second  Sunday  after  Epiphany,  January  17,  1847,  at  which 
time  it  will  give  me  pleasure  to  administer  the  rite  to  such  as  you 
shall  present  to  me.  The  service  will  commence  at  the  usual  hour 
of  quarter  past  ten. 

In  the  mean  time,  I  am  very  sincerely  yours, 

MANTON   EASTBURN. 
The  Rev.  W.  Ckoswell,  D.  D. 

During  the  progress  of  this  correspondence  with  his  bishop,  he 
expresses,  in  his  letters  to  his  father,  a  great  desire  to  "  avoid^  the 
necessity  of  reviving  the  old  controversy."  But,  without  "  forgetting 
what  is  due  to  the  diocesan,"  he  is  still  resolved  to  put  the  whole 
matter  upon  a  right  footing.  His  last  letter  to  the  bishop  was  di-awn 
up  with  deliberation  and  care,  "  I  am  desirous,"  he  says,  "  to  give 
it  as  much  of  completeness  as  the  importance  of  the  subject  deserves. 
I  do  not  count  upon  its  making  any  impression  upon  him.  I  am 
satisfied  that  all  argument  is  lost  upon  his  mind,  when  his  will  is  in 
the  way  ;  but  a  great  principle  is  at  stake,  and  one  in  which  the 
whole  Church  is  interested,  viz.,  whether  the  threat  of  cutting  off 
from  canonical  privileges  may  be  lawfully  used  to  compel  conformity 
to  a  bishop's  private  tastes,  preferences,  and  opinions.  I  hope  these 
unpleasant  discussions  will  not  be  allowed  to  divert  our  thoughts  and 
hearts,  at  this  season,  from  more  important  subjects.  Our  services 
are  as  much  crowded  as  ever,  and  seem  to  awaken  a  hopeful  degree 
of  interest  in  those  who  attend  them.  The  animation  of  our  wor- 
ship is  truly  inspiring,  and  I  am  sure  it  would  do  your  spirit  good 
to  be  sustained  with  so  hearty  a  response  as  we  have  had  to-day." 
On  finally  acceding  to  the  bishop's  ultimatum,  he  gives  as  a  reason, 
"  After  making  due  protest  against  what  I  regarded  as  a  dangerous 
precedent,  I  thought  it  would  be  better  not  to  encourage  a  standing 
out  against  his  appointment  to  meet  us  elsewhere.  Indeed,  consist- 
ently with  a  regard  to  the  welfare  of  my  flock,  who  would  thus  be 
required  to  forego  a  privilege  to  which  they  were  entitled,  I  did  not 
see  my  way  clear  to  do  so.  Accordingly,  I  signified  my  willingness 
to  avail  myself  of  his  alternative."  He  afterwards  speaks  of  the 
civility  of  the  vestry  of  Trinity  Church,  and  the  pewholders  gener- 
ally, in  tendering  accommodations  to  the  people  of  the  Advent,  on 
the  occasion  of  their  visit.  "  This  .occasion,"  he  says,  "  begins  to  be 
looked  forward  to  with  great  interest,  and  will  draw  together  a 
crowd.     So  that  this  thing  will  not  be  done  in  a  corner." 

While  his  mind  was  thus  heavily  taxed  with  this  unpleasant  con- 
troversy, and  while  his  pastoral  cares  and  labors  were  exceedingly 
50 


394  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1847. 

pressiiiiT,  lie  had  a  domestic  trial  which  caused  him  much  anxiety. 
His  little  daughter,  who  had  been  slightly  indisposed  from  time  to 
time,  now  began  to  sufter  from  the  incipient  symptoms  of  a  com- 
plaint, of  the  serious  nature  of  which  he  was  not  fully  aware,  but 
which  eventually  caused  her  a  long  and  distressing  confinement.  Of 
the  result  of  this  case,  wliich  proved  more  favorable  than  the  family 
had  been  led  to  fear,  it  may  be  necessary  to  speak  hereafter.  The 
record  of  the  eusuing  year  now  presents  itself. 


1847. 


From  the  foregoing  details,  the  reader  is  prepared,  in  some 
measure,  for  the  opening  incidents  of  the  present  year.  These  are 
related  by  the  rector  of  the  Advent  with  sufficient  minuteness  to 
show  the  true  position  of  the  parties.  January  11,  after  apologizing 
for  some  delay  in  writing,  he  says,  "  Duties  have  come  as  thick  and 
fast  as  the  minutes.  My  time  has  been  frittered  away,  not  unprof- 
itably,  as  I  hope,  but  still  in  a  way  of  which  I  can  give  no  very  pre- 
cise account.  The  preparation  of  candidates  for  confirmation  is 
always  attended  with  a  good  deal  of  care,  as  frequent  calls  are  ne- 
cessary, not  only  for  the  purpose  of  instruction,  but  to  communicate 
the  first  idea  often,  to  those  you  are  addressing,  that  they,  having 
ears  to  hear,  are  expected  to  hear.  We  have  the  additional  obsta- 
cle to  encounter  from  the  course  of  the  bishop,  and  the  unwillingness 
which  many  have  to  receive  confirmation  at  his  hands.  Some  have 
already  gone  into  other  dioceses  to  avoid  the  necessity,  and  others 
will  do  the  same.  Still,  I  think,  a  considerable  number  will  go  to 
the  house  of  God  in  company  next  Sunday  morning,  and  count,  at 
least,  upon  about  twenty  —  all  adults,  and  about  half  of  them  gen- 
tlemen. The  wardens  of  Trinity  Church  have  reserved  pews  for  our 
accommodation,  and  we  shall  be  attended  probably  by  a  large  body 
of  our  parishioners.  It  will  be  a  spectacle  of  much  interest,  and  I 
have  no  doubt  that  the  church  will  be  crowded.  I  shall  give  you 
an  account  of  it  as  soon  as  it  is  fairly  over."  Accordingly,  on  the 
18th  he  writes,  "  Yesterday  was  clear  and  bright,  and  was  very 
favorable  for  our  solemnities.  Our  candidates  met  by  appointment 
at  our  chapel.  Eighteen  were  present.  I  had  counted  upon  more  ; 
but  sickness  prevented  in  one  instance,  and  other  reasons  in  more. 
Had  the  ordinance  been  administered  in  our  own  place,  and  under 
ordinary  circumstances,  the  number  would  have  been  nearly  doubled. 
As  it  was,  there  was  something  remarkably  interesting  in  the  char- 
acter of  the  company  presented.      There  were  no  mere  children. 


1847.]  CHURCH   OF  THE   ADVENT.  395 

All  were  mature  and  full  grown,  of  difterent  ages  and  stations  in 
life  —  young  men  in  their  prime,  aged,  rich,  and  poor  —  the  latter  intel- 
ligent and  respectable  in  their  appearance.  We  provided  a  carriage 
for  the  invalids,  —  the  rest  proceeded  on  foot,  —  a  large  body  of  the 
parishioners  accompanied  us.  Eligible  seats  were  provided  for  the 
candidates  near  the  chancel  on  our  arrival.  The  bishop  sent  for  me 
to  the  vestry  room,  and  invited  me  to  read  the  epistle  in  the  ante- 
communion  service,  and  take  a  seat  in  the  cliancel..  I  did  not  hesi- 
tate to  accept  the  invitation.  The  church  was  full.  The  bishop 
preached,  and  the  confirmation  followed.  There  were  but  six  can- 
didates from  Trinity  Church,  making  just  enough  in  all  to  fill  the 
rails  once,  without  crowding  or  confusion.  I  presume  a  service  of 
more  intense  interest  never  was  transacted  within  those  walls.  The 
bishop's  address  was  quite  unexceptionable.  I  was  under  much 
emotion  at  times,  though  controlled  within  proper  bounds.  The 
bishop  betrayed  none.  .  .  .  When  I  went  to  the  vestry,  I  told 
him  1  was  obliged  to  him  ;  and  added,  with  some  agitation,  that  I 
could  not  have  desired  any  thing  to  have  been  dift'erent  in  his  address. 
He  said,  with  a  hard  and  stereotyped  way,  that  the  service  was  sol- 
emn, and  he  hoped  that  a  blessing  would  attend  it.  And  so  we 
parted,  with  a  strong  hope  on  my  part  that  I  should  soon  be  enabled 
to  come  with  a  younger  train." 

Buoyed  up  by  this  hope,  and  encouraged  by  the  flattering  pros- 
pects of  his  parish,  he  pursued  his  course  steadily  and  diligently  ;  al- 
lowing himself,  by  way  of  relaxation,  but  a  few  weeks  during  the 
whole  year,  which  were  spent  in  short  visits  and  excursions.  Owing 
to  the  occasional  sickness  and  absence  of  his  assistant,  the  chief 
burden  of  the  weekly  and  daily  services  devolved  upon  him,  except 
when  relieved  by  the  generous  and  voluntary  aid  of  Dr.  Eaton  and 
other  visiting  brethren.  His  health  suffered,  at  times,  from  excessive 
duty  and  exposure  ;  and  in  addition  to  this,  a  sad  drawback  to  his 
enjoyment  was  experienced  in  the  long-protracted  and  dangerous 
illness  of  his  little  daughter.  She  began,  early  in  the  spring,  to  have 
alarming  symptoms  of  disease.  The  origui  of  her  complaint  was 
somewhat  obscure,  and  its  progress  slow.  But  it  resulted  in  lumbar 
abscess,  and  subjected  her  to  a  tedious  confinement,  in  a  recumbent 
or  rechning  position,  for  several  months.  During  the  heat  of  the 
summer,  she  was  removed,  by  the  recommendation  of  her  physician, 
and'  at  the  kind  solicitation  of  a  most  excellent  friend,  Mrs.  Carpen- 
ter, to  her  residence  at  Lee  Vale,  a  delightfid,  quiet,  and  retired 
place  in  Cambridge.  Here,  besides  the  best  of  medical  attendance, 
she  had  every  possible  care,  attention,  and  indulgence  that  the  most 
devoted  friendship  and  i)arental  affection  could  bestow.  In  the  lat- 
ter part  of  .Tuly,  to  the  great  relief  of  her  anxious  friends,  her  com- 
plaint came  to  a  favorable  crisis.  She  passed  through  it  safely,  and 
was  eventually  restored  to  health.      His  letters  during  this  severe  vis- 


396  MEMOIR  OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1847. 

itation  are  marked  with  his  usual  tenderness  of  feehng,  mingled  with 
the  most  unreserved  submission  to  the  will  of  God ;  and  when  the 
danger  was  past,  he  opened  the  deep  fountains  of  his  heart  in  the 
most  affecting  strains  of  praise  and  thanksgiving. 

During  the  pendency  of  this  trial,  and  amid  the  great  labor  and 
care  which  came  upon  him  in  the  due  order  of  his  public  services, 
his  mind  was  very  much  absorbed  by  another  object.  The  hall  in 
Lowell  Street,  though  fitted  up  in  a  neat  and  commodious  manner, 
was  too  much  exposed  to  noise  and  interruption  during  the  week- 
day services,  and  also  proved  to  be  too  small  to  meet  the  increasing 
demand  for  sittings.  A  movement  was  therefore  made,  early  in  the 
year,  for  procuring  a  permanent  house  of  worship  for  the  use  of  the 
parish  ;  and  a  fund  was  commenced  for  the  purpose  by  many  liberal 
subscriptions.  February  15,  he  says,  "  Our  affairs  look  very  prom- 
isingly ;  our  subscription  papers  are  filling  up  apace;  and  we  can 
almost  see  our  church  rising,  as  if  by  magic,  and  like  the  temple  of 
old,  without  the  sound  of  axes  and  hammers."  But  these  anticipa- 
tions were  not  fulfilled  precisely  to  the  letter.  To  raise  the  neces- 
sary funds,  to  select  a  suitable  site,  and  to  erect  a  new  church, 
would  necessarily  consume  too  much  time.  Hence  it  was  deemed 
advisable  to  procure,  with  as  little  delay  as  possible,  a  more  capa- 
cious and  convenient  place  of  worship.  And  to  this  object  the  at- 
tention of  the  rector  and  the  corporation  of  his  church  was  imme- 
diately directed.  After  much  inquiry  and  examination,  the  effort 
resulted  in  the  purchase,  at  a  cost  of  twenty-five  thousand  dollars, 
of  a  plain  and  substantial  building,  in  an  eligible  situation  on  Green 
Street,  originally  erected  by  a  Congregational  society,  under  the  pas- 
toral care  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  .Tenks.  This  building  was  remodelled, 
and  adapted  to  the  worship  of  the  Church,  and  was  first  occupied 
as  a  regular  house  of  prayer  by  the  parish  on  the  first  Sunday  in 
Advent.  As  there  will  be  occasion  to  speak  more  at  large  of  this 
building  and  its  ecclesiastical  arrangement  before  the  record  of  this 
year  is  closed,  the  subject  is  dropped  for  the  present,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  touching  upon  other  topics  alluded  to  in  his  current  cor- 
respondence. 

The  feast  of  St.  Paul's  having  passed,  he  recurs  to  it  in  his  cus- 
tomary strain  of  solemn  contemplation,  coupling  his  reflections  with 
a  passing  tribute  to  one  of  his  early  friends  and  classmates,  Isaac  H. 
TowNSEND,  Esq.,  of  whose  death  he  had  recently  been  informed  : 
"  I  kept  St.  Paul's  day  as  of  old,  and  recalled  its  return  in  other 
years ;  and  I  thought  of  those  who  had  gone  since  I  wrote  '  The 
Ordinal.'  How  swift  the  lapse  of  time  !  How  true  to  experience 
the  similes  of  the  inspired  book  !  It  has  made  me  sad  to  thijik  of 
Townsend's  premature  death,  humanly  speaking.  I  remember  the 
fresh  and  eager  look  of  his  boyhood  when  we  sat  at  the  feet  of  the 
same  teacher,  and  he  was  foremost  of  all  his  peers.     In  college,  he 


1847.]  CHURCH   OF  THE   ADVENT.  3g7 

distanced  us  all.  His  legal  studies  were  conducted  in  the  same 
spirit.  In  his  determined  purpose  of  accjuiring  all  mysteries  and 
all  knowledge,  he  seemed  to  sacrifice  everything  else  —  to  hold 
himself  aloof  from  the  lies  of  domestic  life,  lest  they  should  interfere 
with  his  intellectual  progress  ;  and  1  fear  he  has  paid  the  fearful 
forfeit  in  taxing  his  mental  powers  beyond  their  natural  strength. 
For  some  time,  the  energies  of  his  mind,  I  have  been  told,  have  been 
failing  ;  and  if  he  was  conscious  of  it,  I  do  not  doubt  that  it  has 
hastened  the  catastrophe.  I  was  never  intimate  with  him.  We  had 
but  few  sympathies  together,  and  but  little  in  common.  Still  I 
respected  him,  and  appreciated  his  acquirements.  I  hope  the  pearl 
of  great  price  was  among  them,  and  that  he  had  treasure  laid  up  in 
heaven  ;  for  if  not,  the  richest  of  our  race  are  poor  indeed. 

The  stars  *  are  thickening  on  our  college  roll. 
Types  of  their  place,  perhaps,  in  other  spheres, 

And  warning  signs  to  bid  thee,  O  my  soul, 
Prepare  to  join  the  friends  of  happier  years." 

Writing  to  his  father,  Monday  before  Easter,  he  says,  "  I  have  a 
summons  to  be  present  at  the  examination  of  Trinity  College,  com- 
mencing on  Tuesday  of  Easter  week,  as  chairman  of  the  committee 
of  the  Fellows.  The  call  is  imperative,  and  I  must  obey,  unless  some- 
thing providential  here  should  make  my  remaining  still  more  indis- 
pensable. ...  It  will  not  be  a  very  satisfactory  recreation  for 
the  Easter  holidays,  cooped  up  in  a  college  recitation  room  for  two 
days  ;  but  laurels  are  not  to  be  won  without  a  sacrifice."  He  pro- 
ceeds, "  Our  services  are  intensely  interesting  as  we  draw  nearer 
and  qearer  to  the  cross.  Yesterday  was  so  fine  a  day  that  the  church 
was  full.  To-day  we  have  services  morning  and  evening,  and  the 
same  all  the  days  of  the  week." 

In  obedience  to  the  summons  from  the  college,  he  proceeded  to 
Hartford  on  Easter  Monday,  April  5 ;  and  after  attending  to  the 
duties  there,  he  made  a  short  visit  to  New  Haven,  and  returned  to 
Boston  on  the  16th.  He  found  his  assistant  sick,  and  his  own  la- 
bors were  consequently  so  much  the  more  abundant.  His  letters, 
therefore,  at  this  time,  though  despatched  weekly,  were  more  brief 
than  usual,  and  afford  only  here  and  there  a  passage  for  selection. 

On  Monday  in  Whitsun  week  he  writes,  "  Pentecost  is  in  char- 
acter —  the  elements  genial  and  inspiring  —  and  the  tender  green  of 
the  young  leaves  shows  that  the  soul  of  universal  nature  is  at  last 
stirred.  We  were  with  one  accord,  in  one  place,  seeking  the  grace 
promised  to  divine  unity  in  the  communion  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  the 
Comforter ;  •  and  not,  we  hope,  in  vain." 

*  In  the  college  catalogues,  a  star  or  asterisk  placed  against  the  name  of  a 
graduate  denotes  his  decease. 


398  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROS^rELL.  [1847. 

For  the  sketch  which  follows,  no  apology  is  necessary.  It  serves 
to  illustrate  the  policy  of  the  bishop,  in  giving  countenance,  in  one 
case,  to  the  very  same  chancel  arrangements  which  he  made  the 
ground  of  ecclesiastical  censure  in  the  Church  of  the  Advent.  "  Last 
night,  the  bishop  administered  confirmation  at  St.  Stephen's,  for  the 
second  time  this  season,  to  about  thirteen  or  fourteen  persons.  His 
address  was  more  parental  and  affectionate  than  ever  I  heard  from 
him  before  ;  and  I  hear  of  no  exceptions  taken  to  the  arrangements 
of  the  chancel.  And  this  is  most  remarkable  ;  because,  wherein  our 
own  were  open  to  exception,  St.  Stephen's  goes  far  beyond  us. 
High  up,  on  the  ledge  of  the  wainscotting,  over  the  altar,  and  just 
beneath  the  window,  was  a  row  of  burning  candles, — the  candle- 
sticks could  not  be  seen, — disclosing  a  large  wooden  cross  in  the 
window.  On  the  altar  itself  were  two  silver  candlesticks,  of  three 
branches  each.  A  large  cross  in  the  middle  aisle  bore  aloft  similar 
candlesticks  on  the  arms  and  on  the  head  ;  and  another  row  along 
the  singers'  gallery  constituted  the  source  of  all  the  material  illu- 
mination which  the  place  had." 

From  this  time  until  the  autumn,  with  the  exception  of  a  short 
visit  from  his  father,  very  few  incidents  occurred  to  break  in  upon 
the  round  of  cares  and  duties  already  alluded  to.  But  in  the  month 
of  September  he  was  induced,  by  the  urgent  solicitations  of 
two  of  his  young  friends  and  fellow-townsmen,  Henry  Edwards 
and  Oliver  S.  Prescott,  to  visit  New  Haven  and  preach  a  sermon, 
on  the  occasion  of  their  admission  to  the  order  of  deacons.  He 
had  consented  to  this  arrangement  with  much  reluctance,  on  account 
of  his  want  of  time  to  make  the  necessary  preparation.  "  I  will 
endeavor,"  he  says,  "  not  to  fail  you,  and  hope  that  I  shall  not  dis- 
appoint reasonable  expectation.  I  can  give  but  little  thought  to,any 
thing  beyond  what  presses  upon  me  weekly."  The  ordination  took 
place  on  the  16th  of  September,  and  all  the  services,  not  excepting 
the  sermon,  passed  oft'  to  the  mutual  satisfaction  of  all  parties. 

His  next  absence  from  home  was  on  a  short  excursion  with  his 
friend  Dr.  Shattuck,  of  which  he  gives  the  following  sketch  in 
a  letter  of  October  12,  addressed  to  his  mother,  while  his  father 
was  attending  a  session  of  the  General  Convention  :  "  I  returned 
this  morning  from  a  week's  excursion  to  Troy,  Albany,  West  Point, 
and  New  York.  .  .  .  Nothing  could  exceed  the  gratification 
afforded  by  our  visit  to  our  friends  at  Troy  and  Albany.  The  little 
Church  of  the  Holy  Cross  at  the  former  place,  with  its  daily  services 
and  choir  of  charity  children,  —  its  architectural  beauty,  reminding 
one  of  what  he  has  supposed  to  be  furnished  by  some  of  the 
academical  chapels  of  Oxford  and  Cambridge,  —  is  truly  a  study  for  a 
devout  pilgrim  of  the  cross.  ...  A  cordial  reception  awaited 
us  also  at  Albany.  .  .  .  On  Thursday  afternoon  of  last  week, 
we  arrived  at  West  Point.     .     .     .     We  did  not  see  much  of  the 


1847.]  CHURCH   OF  THE  ADVENT.  399 

military  ;  but  we  saw  what  we  came  to  see,  and  what  we  vahied 
more  ;  for  our  pilgrimage  has  been  an  ecclesiastical  one.  The 
scenery  is  beyond  my  power  to  convey  an  impression  of;  and  we 
agreed  that  Dr.  Syntax,  in  search  of  the  picturesque,  might,  in  this 
respect,  have  envied  us.  What  most  interested  us  was  the  little 
chapel  of  the  Holy  Innocents.  It  was  in  a  secluded  spot,  a  mile  or 
more  below  the  Point,  between  the  mountains  and  the  river,  and  in 
the  best  taste.  Mr.  Weir,  the  artist,  not  only  designed  it,  but  it 
has  been  executed  more  at  his  expense  than  that  of  any  other  per- 
son. When  we  know  that  he  is  dependent  on  his  art  for  support, 
and  that  he  has  a  family  of  nine  children,  his  self-sacrifice  and 
unselfishness  in  this  matter  is  the  more  exemplary.  The  morning 
and  evening  service  is  daily  celebrated,  and  we  joined  in  the  sacri- 
fice. We  Iiad  the  pleasure  of  seeing  Mr.  Weir  and  other  excel- 
lent catholic  spirits.  We  spent  a  memorable  hour  with  Mr.  Weir 
in  his  studio,  and  he  showed  us  some  sketches  for  paintings,  which 
gladdened  our  eyes  and  hearts." 

On  tlie  feast  of  AH  Saints,  November  1,  after  congratulating  his 
father  on  his  return  from  the  General  Convention,  he  notes  a  few 
particulars  in  relation  to  the  building  which  had  been  purchased  as 
their  future  place  of  worship.  "  We  are  slowly  completing  our 
alterations  of  the  Green  Street  meeting  house  into  something  that 
shall  be  all-glorious  within.  I  think,  however,  that  it  will  be  the 
divine  service  chiefly  that  will  make  it  so.  The  basement  is  very 
large,  and  will  afford  fine  accommodations  for  our  Sunday  school. 
There  will  also  be  a  large  robing  room  and  vestry  below. 
The  principal  audience  room  will  have  a  spacious  and  com- 
modious chancel,  and  a  rather  high  altar.  The  pew  doors 
have  been  taken  off",  and  there  is  abundant  room  to  kneel. 
There  seems  but  little  remaining  to  be  done  ;  but  the  days  are 
short,  and  it  may  be  that  we  shall  not  be  ready  to  commence  our 
services  there  till  Advent  Sunday."  Speaking  subsequently  of  the 
slow  progress  of  these  alterations,  he  says,  "  But  what  they  accom- 
plish is  very  satisfactory  ;  and  I  think  we  shall  have  as  church-like 
arrangements  of  the  altar  and  furniture  as  are  to  be  found  in  the 
city  ;  though  this  is  not  saying  much.  There  will  be  a  hundred 
pews,  or  rather  open  seats,  on  the  floor;  for  we  have  discarded 
the  doors,  and  cut  down  the  ends  to  a  scroll  elbow  piece  —  a  vast 
improvement  in  the  appearance  of  the  building,  and  settling  an 
important  principle.  How  strange  the  spectacle  would  be  in  our 
eyes,  if  we  were  not  accustomed  to  it  —  this  buttoning  in  of  families 
on  the  floor  of  the  sacred  edifice,  each  in  their  separate  pens  ! 
.  .  .  Since  these  repairs  have  been  going  on,  I  have  dwelt,  as 
it  were,  in  the  house  of  the  Lord,  when  I  could  be  spared  ;  and 
shall  spend  much  more  time  there  when  all  is  completed ;  and  hope 


400  MEMOIR  OF  WILLIAM    CEOS  WELL.  [1847. 

to  find,  as  indeed  I  have  ever  done,  that  one  day  in  His  courts  is 
better  than  a  thousand." 

Writing  on  his  forty-third  birthday,  he  began  to  morahze  on  the 
occasion  ;  but  being  interrupted,  he  says,  on  again  taking  up  his 
pen,  "  I  will  not  resume  the  attempt  to  sermonize.  Suffice  it  to  say, 
that  I  adore  the  goodness  and  mercy  that  have  followed  me  all  the 
days  of  my  life  thus  far,  and  so  abundantly  blessed  our  domestic 
relations  to  our  mutual  comfort.  May  God  long  spare  each  mem- 
ber of  tlie  family  to  be  a  comfort  to  the  rest ;  and,  after  a  short 
separation,  may  it  please  him  to  hasten  the  number  of  his  elect,  and 
unite  us  forever  in  his  heavenly  kingdom,  through  Jesus  Christ  our 
Lord.     Amen  ! " 

The  following  characteristic  passage  is  from  the  same  letter :  "  I 
was  at  the  laying  of  the  corner  stone  of  the  Church  of  the  INIessiah 
yesterday.  I  endeavor  to  unite  with  the  brethren,  whether  they 
will  unite  with  me  or  not.  Brother  Randall's  address  was  very 
good  ;  and  at  the  aspiration  at  the  close,  I  audibly  responded, '  Amen.' 
I  took  his  hand  afterwards,  for  his  faithful  testimony,  and  hoped 
that  they  would  bring  forth  the  top  stone  with  shoutings.  I  do  not 
envy  him  his  building  when  completed,  in  comparison  with  ours  ; 
and  I  forgive  him  that  I  could  not  draw  from  him  a  word  of  con- 
gratulation in  return  for  mine." 

November  14,  he  speaks  of  his  desire  "  to  make  out,  if  possible,  a 
genealogical  table  of  the  Crosvvell  family  before  all  are  gone  who 
can  assist  in  developing  it.  I  think  the  memoirs  of  the  family,  in  all 
its  branches,  would  be  rich  in  curious  anecdote — the  eastern  hardly 
less  so  than  the  western.  Without  an  exception,  whatever  their 
parts,  none  of  the  name  have  ever  accumulated  any  great  wealth, 
though  many  of  them  have  come  very  near  it.  I  am  inclined  to 
think,  however,  that  many  of  them  have  been  rich  in  faith,  and  heirs 
of  the  kingdom." 

November  22,  he  writes,  "  We  had  our  last  communion  and  Sun- 
day services  at  the  chapel  in  Lowell  Street  yesterday,  and  they  were 
of  solemn  interest  —  both  the  curate  and  myself  preacliing  appropriate 
sermons." 

The  opening  of  the  new  place  of  worship  in  Green  Street  was  an 
event  of  deep  interest  to  the  parish  as  well  as  the  rector,  and  the 
fulfilment  of  many  pleasing  anticipations.  From  his  own  pen,  how- 
ever, there  is  but  a  brief  sketch  of  the  event  itself,  and  this  is  found 
in  a  diary,  entitled  "  Words  of  Days  :  a  record  of  the  daily  minis- 
trations of  the  offices  and  ordinances  of  the  Church  at  the  Church 
of  the  Advent,  in  Green  Street,  from  the  time  of  its  reopening  as  a 
place  of  Episcopal  worship,  on  Advent  Sunday,  November  28, 
1847."  But  a  more  particular  accouiit  is  copied  from  one  of  the 
religious  periodicals  of  the  day  :  — 


1847.]  CHUECH   OF  THE  AD^TINT.  401 

"  Church  of  the  Advent.  The  first  service  of  the  parish  of 
the  Advent,  Boston,  in  their  new  place  of  worship,  was  held  on 
Sunday,  the  28th  of  Novemher.  The  chapel  was  previously  occu- 
pied hy  a  Congregational  society,  and  has  been  fitted  up  in  a  man- 
ner suitable  for  the  worship  of  our  church.  The  pew  doors  have  all 
been  taken  off,  and  every  seat  is  free.  The  chancel  is  spacious,  with 
only  the  altar  within  the  rail,  and  a  lectern  and  seats  for  the  clergy 
without  the  rail.  Above  and  behind  the  altar  are  four  tablets,  for 
the  creed,  Lord's  prayer,  and  sacraments,  and  a  simple  cross, 
over  which  are  the  words,  Lo,  I  come  !  particularly  significant  of 
that  event,  to  the  commemoration  of  which,  as  past,  and  the  prepara- 
tion for  which,  as  to  come,  the  church  is  specially  consecrated.  The 
Rev.  Drs.  Croswell  and  Eaton,  and  Rev.  Mr.  Pollard,  officiated  ; 
the  communion  service  was  performed,  and  Dr.  Croswell  preached 
a  highly  interesting  sermon.  The  congregation  was  very  large,  and 
the  prospects  of  the  parish  are  quite  encouraging.  It  is  a  singular 
coincidence,  that  tliis  parish,  which  took  its  name  without  reference 
to  the  time  of  its  organization,  should  have  had  its  first  public  ser- 
vice, its  first  service  and  sermon  by  its  first  and  only  rector,  and  its 
first  service  in  its  new  place  of  worship,  each  on  Advent  Sun- 
day." —  Churchman. 

Among  the  pleasing  incidents  connected  with  the  transfer  of  the 
Green  Street  Meeting  House  to  the  parish  of  the  Advent,  was  the 
receipt  of  the  following  communication  from  the  Rev.  Dr.  Jenks, 
in  answer  apparently  to  a  note  inviting  him  to  attend  the  services 
of  the  Church  on  Advent  Sunday  :  — 

1  Crescent  Place,  Novemher  26,  184-7. 

Reverend  and  dear  Sir  :  Accept  my  sincere  thanks  for  the 
very  kind  invitation  you  have  so  obligingly  sent  me.  I  could  not 
peruse  your  note  without  emotion.  And  I  rejoice  that  the  house 
in  which  I  have  so  long  officiated  in  the  gospel  will  still  resound  with 
the  preaching  of  "  Christ  crucified  "  for  the  sins  of  men. 

This  satisfaction  is  much  enhanced,  when  I  contemplate  the  dan- 
ger there  was,  lest  a  company,  formed  for  the  purpose,  should  have 
succeeded  in  obtaining  the  house  in  order  to  erect  a  theitre  on  its 
site.     This  would  have  been  a  "  grief  of  heart "  to  me. 

I  had  made  my  arrangement  with  my  reverend  brother  Blagden 
some  time  before  the  reception  of  your  note ;  and  shall  expect  to 
attend  statedly,  (when  abroad,)  at  the  Old  South,  where  I  am 
engaged  to  preach  on  Lord's  day  morning  next.  But  this  does 
not  lessen  my  obligation  for  the  kindness  of  your  friendly  ofi'er. 

Among  the  most  painful  things  attending  the  scattering  and  dis- 
solution of  the  late  church  and  religious  society  in  Green  Street,  the 
dispersion  of  the  flourishing  Sabbath  school  was,  perhaps,  the  greatest. 
51 


402  MEMOIR   OF  ^VILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1847. 

It  is  pleasant  to  me  to  reflect  that  the   room    it  occupied  will   be 
reopened,  and  sacred  instruction  be  still  given  to  the  young. 

That  it  may  please  the  great  Head  of  the  Church  to  make  your 
ministry  long  and  greatly  successful,  and  that  he  may  enable  you 
not  only  to  "  save  yourself,"  but  also  "  them  that  hear  you,"  is  the 
desire  and  prayer  of,  reverend  and  dear  sir. 

Yours  in  the  gospel  of  Christ, 

WILLIAM    JENKS. 
Rev.  Dr.  Croswell. 

But  while  the  affairs  of  the  Advent  were  thus  prosperous,  the 
rector  and  his  people  were  soon  taught  to  feel  that  the  "  tyranny  " 
of  the  bishop's  course  was  by  no  means  "  overpast,"  although  it 
assumed,  in  some  respects,  a  new  or  modified  form.  The  rector, 
writing  to  his  father  November  22,  says,  "  Last  week,  five  of  the 
clergy,  Messrs.  Vinton,  Clark,  Mason,  Woart,  and  Randall, 
called,  in  a  body,  first  at  our  house,  and  then  at  the  church ;  but  not 
finding  me  at  either  place,  they  left  without  mentioning  their  errand. 
The  next  evening  they  called  again,  and  I  gave  them  a  cordial 
reception.  They  professed  to  have  the  best  intentions,  and  a  beai'ty 
desire  for  unity  and  a  restoration  of  clerical  intercourse.  This 
feeling,  of  course,  was  reciprocated.  They  had  been  first  to  the 
bishop,  to  see  on  what  terms  he  would  consent  to  bury  the  hatchet. 
They  had  had  difficulty  in  inducing  him  to  concede  any  thing.  But 
he  had  finally  concluded  to  waive  his  objections  to  every  thing,  pro- 
vided I  would  pray  towards  the  people.  I  had  rather  a  free  talk 
with  them — not  unpleasant  on  either  side,  and  not  compromising, 
you  may  be  sure,  on  mine.  It  ended  with  the  assurance  that  I 
would  give  the  subject  a  deliberate  consideration,  and  inform  them 
of  the  result.  A  meeting  of  the  clergy,  the  beginning  of  a  sort 
of  city  convocation,  is  to  be  held  this  evening  at  Dr.  Vinton's. 
Instead  of  attending,  I  purpose  to  send  the  following  note  :  "  — 

BosTox,  November  22,  1847. 
To  Dr.  Vinton,  &c. 

Dear  Brethren :  I  have  again  to  thank  you  for  your  kind  efforts 
to  mediate  between  the  bishop  of  the  diocese  and  myself,  with 
regard  to  the  posture  observed  in  divine  worship  at  the  Church  of 
the  Advent.  I  have  carefully  reviewed  the  whole  subject  more  than 
once,  and  have  uniformly  returned  to  the  conclusions  which  are  con- 
tained in  a  correspondence  between  the  bishop  and  myself,  nearly  a 
year  since.  I  beg  leave  to  submit  a  copy  of  that  correspondence  to 
your  candid  perusal,  and  should  have  no  objections,  for  my  own 
part,  to  its  being  pubUshed,  if  it  should  be  thought  advisable.  It 
should  be  understood,  that  conformity  to  our  usage,  in  the  particular 
to  which  you  refer,  has  never  been  required  as  a  condition  of  clerical 


1847.]  CHURCH   OF  THE   ADVENT.  403 

exchange  with  my  brethren,  and  that  a  kneeling  stool  will  be  pro- 
vided for  the  use  of  those  who  may  prefer,  for  any  reason,  to  kneel 
at  the  lectern. 

Very  sincerely,  your  obedient  servant, 

W.  CROSWELL. 
P.  S.     There  are  considerations  of  a  delicate  nature,  which  I  will 
mention  when  we  meet,  that  prevent  me  from  joining  the  brethren 
at  your  house  this  evening. 

This  was  followed  by  a  letter  from  the  bishop  :  — 

Tremont  Street,  November  24,  1847. 

Reverend  and  dear  Sir  :  I  have  learned,  with  great  satisfaction, 
that  several  of  the  parochial  clergy  of  the  city,  with  a  view  of  pro- 
moting brotherly  unity  and  friendly  clerical  interchange  between 
yourself  and  them,  have  represented  to  you  their  wish  that  you 
would  so  far  conform  to  prevaihng  usage,  in  your  mode  of  conduct- 
ing divine  service  in  your  church,  that  so  desirable  an  end  might  be 
accomplished. 

I  now  beg  to  express  to  you  once  more  my  own  strong  desire  on 
the  same  subject ;  and,  as  you  are  on  the  eve  of  taking  possession  of 
a  new  place  of  worship,  I  have  thought  the  present  a  favorable 
opportunity  for  thus  afresh  declaring  to  you  my  wishes. 

There  are  several  particulars  in  which  a  return  by  you  to  the 
usages  of  your  brethren  is  desired  by  me  —  such  as  the  wearing  of 
the  gown,  instead  of  the  surplice,  in  preaching  ;  the  reading  of  the 
morning  and  evening  prayer  from  a  reading  desk ;  and  the  use  of  a 
pulpit  for  preaching,  and  the  regular  use  of  the  hietrical  psalms 
and  hymns.  On  these,  however,  1  will  not  insist ;  and  the  utmost 
that  I  now  ask  you  to  do  in  this  matter  is,  either  that,  if  the  prayers 
should  be  read  from  a  reading  desk,  you  will  kneel  at  it,  according 
to  the  prevailing  custom,  with  your  face  towards  the  people ;  or 
that,  if  the  prayers  be  read  at  the  communion  table,  you  will  see 
that  it  be  so  placed  that  both  you  and  the  other  clergymen  officiat- 
ing can  stand  or  kneel  without  inconvenience  at  the  end  of  it,  and 
close  by  it,  in  the  usual  way,  instead  of  being  at  a  distance  from  it, 
either  at  the  end  or  in  front. 

I  take  this  opportunity  of  saying,  though  I  can  scarcely  think  it 
necessary,  that,  in  all  my  past  measures  connected  with  this  unpleas- 
ant subject,  I  have  been  influenced  by  no  considerations  of  personal 
unkindness  to  you.  The  friendly  intercourse  which  had  previously 
subsisted  between  you  and  your  family  and  myself,  after  your 
removal  from  western  New  York  to  this  city,  forbids  this 
supposition. 

My  motives,  in  what  I  have  done,  have  been  those  of  official  duty 
exclusively  ;  and,  under  the  influence  of  the  same  motives,  I  now 


404  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1847. 

most  earnestly  call  upon  you,  as  your  diocesan,  at  least  to  make 
the  change  above  referred  to,  and  no  longer  to  persevere  in  a 
course  so  at  variance  with  the  customs  which,  from  the  first  estab- 
lishment of  oar  Church,  have  prevailed  in  our  places  of  worship, 
both  in  this  and  other  dioceses. 

T  am,  reverend  and  dear  sir. 

Your  faithful  brother, 

MANTON   EASTBURN. 

The  Rev.  W.  Croswell,  D.  D. 

He  could  not  but  look  upon  the  introductory  part  of  this  letter 
as  "rather  cool  —  the  object  of  the  clerical  delegation  being,  as  was 
expressly  stated  by  them,  to  mediate  between  the  bishop  of  the  dio- 
cese and  myself."  He  was  too  much  occupied  at  the  moment  to 
return  a  full  answer  ;  and  therefore  sent,  by  way  of  explanation,  the 
following  hasty  note  :  — 

Crescent  Place,  November  27,  1847. 
Right  reverend  and  dear  Sir:  I  write  this  brief  note  to 
say  that  your  favor  of  the  24th  was  put  into  my  hands  the  next  day  ; 
but  that,  owing  to  the  very  pressing  nature  of  my  engagements  in 
prej^aring  for  the  opening  of  our  new  place  of  worship  on  Advent 
Sunday,  I  am  not  able,  this  week,  as  I  could  have  desired,  to  do 
more  than  to  acknowledge  the  receipt. 

In  great  haste,  very  truly, 

Your  friend  and  servant, 

W.  CROSWELL. 

Right  Rev.  Dr.  Eastburn. 

From  various  causes  of  delay,  the  full  answer  was  not  forwarded 
to  the  bishop  until  the  30th  of  December.  In  the  mean  time,  he  kept 
his  father  advised  of  every  proceeding,  and  often  received  a  free 
expression  of  his  opinion  on  the  several  points  involved  in  the  dis- 
cussion. But  a  single  extract  is  made  from  a  letter  to  his  father, 
December  6  :  "  Touching  the  postures,  I  agree  with  you  entirely. 
The  arrangements  being  mainly  like  those  at  the  Church  of  the 
Holy  Communion,  (New  York,)  we  kneel  at  an  angle  of  forty-five 
towards  the  end  of  the  altar,  exhibiting  the  profile  to  most  of 
the  congregation.  .  .  .  Dr.  Boyle  was  with  us  on  Sunday,  and 
commended  our  manner  of  exhibiting  the  service,  as  not  only  unex- 
ceptionable, but  exemplary,  and  said  that  it  came  nearer  than  any 
other  to  the  interior  of  the  oldest  church  in  Christendom,  St. 
Clements  of  Rome,  built  in  the  fourth  century,  with  a  simple  altar, 
and  without  that  invention  of  a  late  Papal  age  called  a  pulpit  —  a 
word,  he  said,  originally  applied  to  the  rostrum  from  which  the 
mountebanks  exhibited  their  antics.      'A  use  not  so  foreign,' said 


1847.]  CHURCH   OF  THE   ADVENT.  405 

the  doctor,  '  from  that  to  which  they  are  now  sometimes  devoted.' 
It  is  somewhat  remarkahle,  not  to  say  providential,  that  the  oldest 
and  most  venerable  presbyter  in  the  diocese,  good  Dr.  Eaton,  is 
constantly  present  and  assisting  in  our  daily  and  weekly  services." 
Nothing  now  remains  to  complete  the  record  of  the  year  hut  liis 
letter  to  Bishop  Eastburn. 

Boston,  December  30,  1847. 

Right  reverend  and  dear  Sir  :  I  have  thought  it  due  to  your 
office  and  character  that  a  letter  of  so  much  importance  as  yours 
of  the  24th  ultimo  should  receive  the  most  mature  deliberation. 
Hence  the  delay  in  returning  an  answer ;  though  I  cannot  say  that 
I  have,  from  the  first,  felt  much  hesitation  as  to  the  course  which  I 
ought  to  pursue. 

My  impressions  differ  considerably  from  your  own  with  regard  to 
the  design  and  intention  of  the  call  of  several  of  the  parochial 
clergy  of  the  city,  to  whom  you  allude  as  interested  in  promoting 
brotherly  unity.  These  respected  brethren,  with  a  view  to  the  res- 
toration of  happier  relations  between  yourself  and  the  Church  of 
the  Advent,  had  kindly  volunteered,  as  I  understand  it,  to  act  in  the 
capacity  of  mediators.  To  this  end,  according  to  my  recollections, 
they  had  first  called  upon  you,  to  ascertain  precisely  what  terms  of 
promised  conformity  they  were  to  be  allowed  to  propose  as  a  con- 
dition of  the  performance  of  episcopal  acts  in  our  church,  and, 
of  course,  were  to  acquaint  you  with  the  result  of  their  interview 
with  me.  I  gratefully  appreciated  such  services  as  these  at  their 
hands,  as  neither  unworthy  of  them  nor  myself;  and,  at  their  re- 
quest, I  carefully  reviewed  the  whole  subject.  Several  days  before 
the  receipt  of  your  letter,  I  informed  them  that  I  had  done  so, 
more  than  once,  and  that  I  had  also  uniformly  returned  to  the  same 
conclusion  which  I  had  already  communicated  to  you  in  a  corre- 
spondence with  regard  to  confirmation,  about  a  year  since,  and  for 
the  same  reasons.  As  they  did  not  appear  to  have  been  made  ac- 
quainted with  that  correspondence  and  its  bearing  on  our  present 
unfortunate  relations,  I  submitted  a  copy  to  their  candid  perusal. 
And  I  would  now  beg  leave  to  call  your  own  attention  to  it  again, 
as  bringing  to  view  some  momentous  principles  which  are  involved 
in  this  matter,  as  it  has  been  regarded  by  me,  and  a  recollection  of 
which  is  necessary  to  a  proper  understanding  of  our  relative  rights 
and  duties.  If  these  were  as  clearly  expressed  as  I  suppose,  in  my 
letter  of  December  8,  1846,  they  were  perhaps  unconsciously  over- 
looked by  you  at  the  time,  or  have  been  forgotten,  or  lost  sight  of, 
since.  Certain  it  is,  at  least,  that  you  have  not,  to  my  knowledge, 
taken  any  notice  of  them.  I  further  apprised  the  bretln-en  that 
waited  on  me,  that,  however  well  satisfied  of  the  correctness  and 
suitableness  of  our  usages,  I   had  never  assumed  to  require  con- 


40G  MEMOIR   OF   WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1847. 

formity  to  them  as  a  condition  of  clerical  exchange ;  and  that  a 
kneeling  stool,  moreover,  would  be  provided  for  those  who,  for  any 
cause,  should  prefer  to  kneel  at  the  lectern.  In  this  connection,  I 
cannot  but  regard  it  as  remarkable,  that  many  other  of  the  breth- 
ren of  the  city  and  neighborhood,  as  well  as  of  the  Church  at  large, 
and  who  had  been  much  more  familiar  with  our  mode  of  w  orship 
than  some  of  the  brethren  who  waited  upon  me,  have  repeatedly 
officiated  at  our  chapel,  and  have  had  no  difficulty  in  accommodating 
themselves  to  our  usages.  I  think  it  right  to  state,  that  the  three 
senior  presbyters  of  the  diocese,  veterans  in  the  service  of  the 
Church,  are  among  the  number  who  have  expressed  great  satisfac- 
tion in  our  services,  and  have  regarded  our  arrangements  as  unex- 
ceptionable ;  and  I  must  be  allowed  to  add,  with  undisguised  gi'ati- 
fication,  that  one  of  these,  the  eldest  and  most  venerable  of  all  your 
presbyters,  whose  irreprovable  ministry  covers  more  years  than  1 
have  lived,  has  been  in  the  habit  of  assisting  at  our  daily  and  weekly 
service,  and  authorizes  me  to  say,  that  he  is  ready  to  bear  his  testi- 
mony in  favor  of  the  tendency  of  our  mode  of  ministration  to  high 
religious  enjoyment  and  edification. 

If  I  am  correct,  as  I  believe,  in  the  positions  taken  in  the  letter 
alluded  to,  of  December  8,  1846,  then  I  cannot  perceive  how  they 
are  affected,  either  by  any  thing  that  fell  from  my  brethren  (who 
had  not  seen  that  correspondence)  at  the  time  of  our  interview,  or 
by  your  own  letter  of  the  34th  ultimo  ;  unless  it  be  that  certain  things 
are  now  yielded  as  admissible  which  have  heretofore  been  publicly 
set  forth  in  terms  tending,  where  I  was  not  known,  to  bring  my 
ministrations  into  contempt,  as,  "  degrading,"  or,  what  is  worse, 
into  abhorrence,  as  "  perilous  to  the  souls  of  men."  The  remain- 
ing particular,  in  which  conformity  is  yet  insisted  on,  as  the  condi- 
tion of  the  performance  of  episcopal  acts,  stands,  as  it  seems  to 
me,  upon  the  same  footing  with  the  rest.  Nor  do  I  perceive  upon 
what  notions,  either  of  church  law,  of  general  propriety,  or  the 
furtherance  of  uniformity,  it  is  more  obligatory  than  the  claim  to 
enforce  by  authority  the  use  of  the  collect  and  Lord's  prayer  be- 
fore sermon,  the  reverent  bowing  at  the  holy  name  of  Jesus  in  the 
creed,  or  the  exclusion  of  desks  and  pulpits  from  chancels.  Yet  in 
none  of  these  points  is  there  any  such  penalty  imposed  upon  your 
clergy  for  a  non-compliance  with  your  wishes  and  preferences,  how- 
ever earnestly  expressed  ;  while  among  the  clergy  themselves,  as  is 
best  known  to  those  who  have  been  longest  among  them,  there  is  a 
conceded  diversity  of  opinion  and  practice,  and  a  mutual  toleration 
of  differences. 

Putting  all  previous  acts  out  of  the  question,  and  supposing  the 
case  to  stand  solely  upon  your  last  letter  of  the  24th  ultimo,  I  should 
certainly  have  been  disposed,  for  the  sake  of  peace,  to  yield  all 
deference  to  your   requests,  whether  official  or  otherwise,  and  with- 


1847.]  CHURCH   OF  THE  ADVENT.  407 

out,  perhaps,  very  carefully  considering  whether  the  compliance 
proceeded  from  a  spirit  of  submission  to  ecclesiastical  authority,  or 
from  mere  good  nature,  or  indifference,  or  sentiments  of  personal 
consideration.  Even  in  this  case,  however,  it  could  not  witli  con- 
sistency be  admitted,  for  a  moment,  that  the  bishop's  conscience  and 
private  opinion  were  to  be  regarded  as  the  standard  of  clerical  con- 
formity, or  that  compliance  with  his  preferences  was  the  condition 
on  which  his  clergy  and  parishes  were  to  be  allowed  the  enjoyment 
of  their  chartered  privileges.  Canonical  obedience  to  the  diocesan, 
in  our  branch  of  the  Church  at  least,  has  its  limits,  which,  however 
they  may  seem  to  vary,  as  viewed  by  different  minds,  are  intended, 
as  the  expression  shows,  to  be  distinctly  defined  by  our  standards. 
And  one  cannot  help  being  struck  with  the  strong  and  explicit  terms 
in  which  those  limits  are  jealously  guarded  in  the  pages  of  the  only 
exposition  of  the  canon  law  of  our  Church  which  has  yet  been  pub- 
lished, and  which  in  many  quarters,  at  the  present  time,  would  be 
regarded  as  authoritative.  Speaking  of  the  supposition  that  the 
bishop  is  not  to  be  restrained  in  the  conscientious  exercise  of  his 
official  functions,  this  alble  writer  observes,  "  Now,  on  this  subject, 
a  very  dangerous  error  seems  to  be  gaining  ground.  The  practice 
of  early  bishops  is  often  refei'red  to,  under  the  imposing  names  of 
antiquity  and  primitive  tisage,  to  sanction  the  acts  of  modern  Epis- 
copacy. But  it  seems  to  be  forgotten,  that  the  usage  of  regulating 
the  exercise  of  the  bishop's  functions  by  certain  fixed  rules  is  as  ancient 
as  the  office  of  a  bishop.  There  is  as  much  of  venerable  antiquity 
in  the  custom  of  making  latcs  for  bishops,  as  there  is  in  making 
bishops  tiiemselves.  It  may  be  safely  affirmed,  that,  since  the  days 
of  the  apostles,  they  never  were  left  with  no  guide  but  their  own 
discretion.  A  law,  indeed,  cannot  be  made  wholly  to  prevent  a 
bishop  from  doing  a  bishop's  appropriate  duty  ;  but  the  history  of 
the  Church  is  full  of  legislation  to  regulate  the  mode  in  which  he 
shall  perform  that  duty."  —  The  Rev.  Dr.  F.  L.  Hawks,  on  the  Con- 
stitution and  Canons.     Canon  xxvi.  pp.  2.57-8. 

In  accordance  with  what  is  here  stated,  surely  the  most  dutiful 
presbyter  would  be  justified  in  declining  compliance  with  any  re- 
quirement of  his  diocesan,  which,  according  to  his  conscientious 
belief,  was  wrong  and  of  dangerous  precedent,  and  also  of  conse- 
quence enough  to  warrant  him  in  bringing  on  himself  and  his 
Church  the  results ;  or  if  there  was  a  conviction  that  the  manner 
of  the  requirement  was  illegal,  and  that  the  illegality  was  of  the 
same  consequence  as  in  the  preceding  instance. 

The  present  case,  however,  it  is  unhappily  not  to  be  forgotten, 
does  not  stand  upon  your  last  letter  of  the  •24th  ultimo,  nor  is  it  to  be 
regarded  independently  of  previous  episcopal  acts.  Even  the 
apostle  Paul,  (Acts  xvi.  37,)  after  he  had  been  "  beaten  openly,  un- 
condemned,"  at  Philippi,  was  not  willing  to  be  "  thrust  out  privily." 


408  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1847. 

In  view  of  his  ignominious  treatment,  witiiout  a  trial,  without  an 
opportunity  to  plead  his  privilege,  or  make  his  defence,  he  did  not 
choose  to  go  away,  or  abandon  his  ground,  as  Thomas  Scott  re- 
marks, "  in  an  underhand  manner,  and  with  the  imputation  of  hav- 
ing deserved  such  punishment,  but  he  required  to  be  honorably  dis- 
charged." There  may  be  cases,  says  the  same  homely  but  honest 
commentator,  when  it  will  be  proper  for  the  servants  of  Christ  to 
claim  the  protection  of  the  laws  against  oppression,  not  from  vin- 
dictive feeling,  but  as  being  most  conducive  to  public  justice,  the 
peace  of  the  Church,  and  the  credit  of  their  profession.  It  is 
deeply  to  be  regretted  that  you  have  connected  my  reputation  with 
terms  of  the  deepest  reproach  for  the  matters  in  question  without 
any  previous  presentation  or  canonical  proceedings  against  me  for 
any  offence  whatever,  without  a  trial,  and  uncondemned  by  any 
tribunal  known  to  our  system.  Under  these  circumstances,  it  will 
be  perceived  why  I  cannot,  with  any  show  of  reason  or  justice,  at 
this  late  day,  and  as  a  mere  matter  of  form,  be  expected  "  privily  " 
to  abandon  my  ground.  I  cannot  tlius  voluntarily  subject  myself 
to  the  imputation  of  having  deserved  that  severe  and  open  censure, 
never  yet  openly  revoked,  or  expose  myself  to  the  construction  of 
admitting  a  bishop's  power  virtually  to  inflict  sentence  of  condem- 
nation on  his  clergy  without  a  trial.  Of  such  a  course  as  this,  at 
once  "  violating  the  established  rights  of  the  parochial  clergy,  and 
overturning  a  fixed  principle  of  our  ecclesiastical  polity,"  the  opinion 
of  the  distinguished  canonist  whom  I  have  already  quoted  is  strikingly 
full  and  forcible.  "  Now  we  say,  that,  under  our  system  of  govern- 
ment, a  bishop  has  no  right,  directly  or  indirectly,  to  try  a  clergyman. 
It  will  be  a  sad  day  for  the  Church  when  the  clergy, 
without  the  intervention  of  triers  of  their  own  order,  may  be  tried 
and  condemned  by  the  bishop  alone.  The  smallest  approach  to 
such  an  encroachment  sliould  be  promptly  resisted.  It  is  of  vast 
importance  for  the  well  being  of  the  Church  to  preserve  their  just 
rights  to  that  large  body  of  real  operatives,  the  parochial  clergy. 
Power  always  passes,  slowly  and  silently,  and  without  much  notice, 
from  the  hands  of  the  many  to  the  few,  and  all  history  shows  that 
ecclesiastical  domination  grows  up  by  little  and  little.  Give  to  bish- 
ops a  right,  without  a  formal  trial  by  their  peers,  virtually  to  condemn 
presbyters  in  one  case,  and  it  will  surely  come  to  pass  that  the  day 
will  be  seen  when  precedent  will  be  cited  for  it  in  all  cases.  .  .  . 
The  overwhelming  tyranny  from  which  the  reformation  freed  the 
Protestant  Church  grew  up  by  this  paulatim  process."  —  The  Rev. 
Dr.  F.  L.  Hawks  on  the  Constitution  and  Canons.  (Canon  xlii.  pp. 
364-5.)  If  there  be  aught  of  authority  in  this  voice  of  eloquent 
warning,  I  cannot  but  think  that  it  puts  the  question  at  issue  be- 
tween us  at  rest.  It  will  no  longer  seem  strange  that,  as  I  did  on 
a  former  occasion,  so  I  do  now,  once  more,   respectfully  decline 


1848.]  CHURCH   OF  THE   ADVENT.  409 

involving  myself  in  any  pledges  beyond  those  of  my  ordination,  and 
over  and  above  the  duties  put  upon  me  by  the  Church.  It  will  also 
be  perceived,  that  on  the  general  principles  for  the  sake  of  which  I 
have  suffered  these  last  two  years,  and  which  I  have  more  largely 
dwelt  upon  in  our  previous  correspondence,  I  am  solemnly  l:)ound  to 
withstand  the  right  to  demand  them. 

I  ought  not  to  conclude  without  observing,  that  it  was  our  en- 
deavor so  to  order  our  new  place  of  worship  that  it  might  not  be 
open  to  your  former  objections.  That  part  of  the  cliancel  within 
the  rails  of  the  altar  is,  of  course,  reserved  for  its  appropriate  sac- 
ramental solemnities.  On  the  space  without,  it  has  been  our  pur- 
pose to  offer,  daily,  the  other  portions  of  that  true  and  laudable 
service  which  our  branch  of  the  Church  seems  to  contemplate  and 
direct,  however  neglected  by  modern  usage.  In  these  respects  our 
ministrations  are  mainly  conformed  to  those  which  at  present  obtain 
in  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Communion,  in  the  city  of  New  York ; 
and  I  venture  to  enclose  with  this  so  much  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Muhlen- 
berg's excellent  pastoral  tract  on  postures  in  prayer,  as  may  serve, 
in  some  measure,  to  explain  and  vindicate  our  own. 
Very  faithfully. 

Yours,  "  in  the  holy  office  of  priesthood," 

W.  CROSWELL. 

Rev.  ilANTON  Eastburn,  D.  D,,  Bishop  of  Massachusetts. 


1848. 


"  With  a  grateful  sense  of  all  God's  mercies,  we  enter  upon  the 
beginning  of  another  year,  which  we  hope  to  spend  as  we  should 
desire  if  we  knew  it  to  be  our  last."  Thus  does  he  commence  the 
correspondence  of  the  new  year,  and,  after  filling  his  sheet  with 
miscellaneous  matter,  he  closes  with  the  "  salutations  of  the  season." 
But  even  before  this  letter  had  been  sent  to  the  post  office,  he  had 
occasion  to  express  his  devout  gratitude  to  God  for  a  special  mercy, 
in  giving  him  a  second  daughter.  This  took  place  on  the  3d  of 
January ;  and  he  had  it  in  his  power  to  announce  that  both  mother 
and  child  were  doing  well.  "  We  have  had,"  he  says,  "  sundry 
choice  gifts  for  the  new  year,  but  this  is  the  most  precious  of  all." 

At  the  same  time,  his  parochial  relations  were  fair  and  prosperous. 
It  is  true,  that  the  expense  of  repairing  and  fitting  up  their  new 
place  of  worship  had  involved  the  parish  in  a  considerable  debt  ; 
and  in  his  anxiety  to  see  this  encumbrance  removed,  the  thought  had 
occurred  to  him,  that  some  aid  might  be  sought  from  the  friends  of 
52 


410  MEMOIR   OF    WILLIAM   C110S\^^LL.  [1848. 

the  enterprise  in  other  dioceses.  Writing  to  a  lay  gentleman  in 
New  York,  on  whose  friendship  and  generosity,  as  well  as  sound 
judgment,  he  knew  he  could  rely,  he  says,  "The  expenses  of  the 
repairs  have,  of  course,  exceeded  the  estimates.  It  comes  heavily 
upon  the  few  who  have  made  the  whole  outlay  of  the  purchase,  and 
I  am  most  anxious  to  relieve  them  of  a  portion  of  it.  I  have  been 
reluctant  to  consent  to  applications  to  our  friends  abroad  for  assist- 
ance ;  nor  would  I  do  so  now,  but  I  think  it  right  to  let  them 
know  that  a  little  aid  in  this  emergency  m  ould  be  most  seasonable. 
If  you  could  tell  me  how  I  could  raise  a  thousand  dollars  in  New 
York,  without  asking  for  it,  you  would  do  me  a  great  favor."  But 
on  further  reflection,  and  after  receiving  advices  from  this  excellent 
friend,  he  changed  his  mind,  and  wrote  again,  acknowledging  the 
correctness  of  his  views,  and  adding,  "  In  truth,  I  have  from  the 
first  resisted  the  idea,  as  unworthy  of  being  entertained  by  Boston 
churchmen,  of  receiving  foreign  aid  in  our  local  enterprises  ;  and, 
indeed,  I  have  taken  the  ground  with  regard  to  all  applications  from 
abroad  for  erecting  churches,  that  every  community  must  provide  its 
own  place  of  worship,  and  that,  if  a  missionary  failed  to  inspire  suffi- 
cient enthusiasm  to  induce  the  faithful  to  gather  to  divine  offices  under 
such  a  shelter  as  a  barn  could  give  them,  his  labors  must  evidently 
have  been  in  vain,  and  it  would  be  an  intimation  of  the  will  of  Provi- 
dence that  his  tent  must  be  pitched  elsewhere.  I  have  been  willing 
that  our  operations  should  be  tried  by  this  test,  and  I  am  sure  they 
will  abide  it.  From  the  warm  sympathies,  however,  manifested  in 
our  behalf,  from  the  first,  and  from  the  encouragement  which  our 
visiting  friends  from  New  York  and  elsewhere  had  held  out,  there 
have  been  some  who  were  sanguine  that  we  had  but  to  hold  out  our 
dish  to  have  it  filled  even  to  running  over.  I  am  not  sure  that  I 
have  escaped  blame  in  some  quarters  for  my  remissness  in  availing 
myself  of  such  supposed  facilities.  Under  these  circumstances, 
when  the  pressure  came  rather  heavily  upon  a  few,  I  wrote  as  I  did 
to  you,  and  am  very  glad  that  the  tenor  of  your  reply  confirms  all 
the  views  which  I  have  so  often  expressed.  In  the  mean  while, 
Hercules,  or  rather  some  more  Christian  power,  has  put  his  shoulder 
to  the  wheel,  and  the  whole  sum  necessary  to  complete  the  pur- 
chase of  the  property  has  been  raised,  chiefly  within  ourselves,  be- 
sides the  necessary  funds  for  repairs.  ...  In  this  respect  we 
begin  to  realize  how  one  individual  example  of  generous  zeal  pro- 
duces many  like  minded.  I  trust,  in  this  way,  you  have  yourself 
been  instrumental  of  more  good  than  you  can  measure,  in  the 
Church  at  large,  and  that,  multiplying  and  reflected  in  all  directions, 
you  will  five  to  see  the  whole  glowing  around  you  like  a  constella- 
tion. .  .  .  Every  thing  looks  very  encouragingly.  The 
church  is  well  attended,  the  ordinances  honored,  Sunday  school 
flourishing,  the  wants  of  the  poor  provided  for,  the  support  liberal, 


1848.]  CHURCH   OF  THE   ADVENT.  411 

the  sympathy  of  the  brethren  at  large  hvely.  Those  of  the  city 
clergy  who  have  attempted  to  gird  us  in  with  a  wall  of  fire,  and 
compel  us  to  unworthy  terms  of  fellowship  and  excliange,  will  find 
that  there  are  more  with  us  than  against  us.  I  have  commenced  a 
series  of  exchanges,  and  shall  probably  find  no  difficulty  in  obtain- 
ing the  reciprocation  of  services  with  almost  every  clergyman  of 
character  and  standing  in  this  part  of  the  diocese.  Many  of  the 
best  of  them  would  be  glad  if  it  were  in  their  power  to  adopt  the 
same  arrangements."  After  urging  his  friend  to  employ  his  influ- 
ence in  favor  of  free  sittings  and  the  restoration  of  the  daily  ser- 
vice, as  the  privilege  of  Christ's  people,  he  adds,  "  I  never  was  so 
clear  and  so  happy  in  my  convictions,  that  this  is  according  to  the 
divine  will  and  the  primitive  order  of  the  Church.  The  Lord  Bishop 
of  Fredericton  will  consecrate  no  church  in  his  diocese  in  which  the 
sittings  are  not  free;  and  I  believe  that  he  has  already  consecrated 
some  tw^enty  on  these  terms."  Writing  to  his  father  on  the  same 
subject,  he  says,  "  Our  prospects  look  more  encouraging  than 
when  I  wrote  last ;  I  mean  financially,  for  in  every  other  respect 
they  are  all  that  the  most  sanguine  friend  could  desire. 
We  can  see  our  way  clear  for  the  payment  of  every  cent,  with  the 
exception  of  the  mortgage  of  ten  thousand  dollars  under  which  we 
took  the  building,  and  we  shall  endeavor  gradually  to  wear  that 
away  likewise.  This  has  been  accomplished,  thus  far,  without  a 
cent  of  assistance  from  abroad,  and  with  all  sorts  of  antagonistic 
influences  round  about  us."  After  speaking  of  the  hostilities  pur- 
sued by  the  bishop  and  his  partisans,  including  repeated  assaults  in 
the  columns  of  the  "  Witness,"  he  adds,  "  In  the  mean  while,  I  am 
regularly  invited  to  meet  the  settled  clergy  once  a  fortnight,  as  they 
assemble  at  each  other's  houses  in  rotation.  I  have  continued  to 
decline  these  overtures  for  several  sufficient  reasons,  which  it  is  not 
necessary  to  mention  in  detail.  I  never  affected  these  little  coteries 
of  associationists,  and  it  is  no  great  privation." 

But  few  items  of  general  interest  are  to  be  drawn  from  his  cor- 
respondence of  this  period.  He  always  speaks  gratefully  of  the 
well  being  of  his  family  ;  and  on  the  15th  of  February  thus  notes 
the  baptism  of  his  little  daughter  on  the  previous  Sunday :  "  In 
the  afternoon,  the  venerable  Dr.  Eaton  received  '  Susan  '  into  the 
bosom  of  the  Church  by  holy  baptism."  And  on  the  13th  of 
March  he  speaks  thus  of  a  portrait  for  which  he  had  been  sitting  : 
"  Brackett  has  about  finished  my  portrait.  I  have  sat  but  seven 
or  eight  times,  at  my  convenience,  and  he  has  not  been  exorbitant 
in  his  demands  on  my  patience.  I  saw  it  for  the  first  time  to-day. 
It  seems  to  me  to  be  quite  remarkable.  The  style  is  very  good  — 
subdued  and  grave ;  the  dress  simple  —  no  canonicals ;  the  face 
thoughtful.  I  should  have  reason  to  be  satisfied  with  it  as  a  like- 
ness, and  it  is  so  pronounced  by  those  who  have  as  yet  been  allowed 


412  ilEMOm   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1848. 

to  see  it."  A  copy  of  this  picture  was  afterwards  presented  to  his 
parents  by  the  kind  friend  under  whose  patronage  it  was  painted. 
It  was  highly  valued,  at  the  time,  as  a  most  faithful  portrait ;  and 
now  that  the  living  original  is  no  more  to  be  seen  on  earth,  it  is 
held  as  an  inestimable  relic. 

Having  now  prepared  another  class  for  confirmation,  he  entered 
into  the  following  correspondence  with  his  bishop :  — 

Boston,  Api-il  4,  1848. 
Right  reverend  and  dear  Sir:  I  trust  to  be  prepared  to  pre- 
sent several  candidates  for  confirmation,  whenever  you  shall  think 
proper  to  make  an  appointment  for  that  purpose.  If  consistent 
with  your  other  engagements  to  name  any  time  towards  the  close 
of  the  month,  it  will  be  most  agreeable  to  me. 

,It  is  hardly  necessary  for  me  to  repeat,  that,  on  occasion  of  epis- 
copal visitation,  the  arrangements  for  worship  at  the  Church  of  the 
Advent  are  submitted  entirely  to  your  own  direction. 

Very  sincerely,  your  faithful  presbyter, 

W.    CROSWELL. 
Right  Rev.  Dr.  Eastbuen,  Bishop  of  Massachusetts. 

Tremont  Street,  April  5,  1848. 

Reverend  and  dear  Sir:  As  I  do  not  feel  myself  at  liberty, 
for  reasons  well  known  to  you,  to  visit  your  church  for  the  purpose 
of  administering  confirmation,  according  to  the  request  contained 
in  your  note  of  yesterday,  I  beg  to  say,  that  I  shall  hold  confirma- 
tions, during  the  present  month,  in  the  following  churches  :  — 

Sixth  Sunday  in  Lent,  in  the  morning,  at  Grace  Church,  Boston ; 
and  at  the  place  of  worship  of  the  Church  of  the  Messiah  in  the 
afternoon. 

Easter  day,  at  St.  Paul's,  Boston,  in  the  afternoon ;  and  at  Christ 
Church  in  the  evening. 

After  Easter  day,  I  shall  be  absent  from  the  city,  as  you  are 
probably  aware,  on  every  Sunday  until  the  fifth  after  Easter. 

It  will  give  me  great  pleasure  to  administer  the  "  laying  on  of 
hands  "  to  such  candidates  as  you  may  present  to  me  on  any  one 
of  the  four  occasions  above  named.  I  leave  the  selection  entirely 
to  yourself. 

Meanwhile,  I  am,  very  sincerely,  yours, 

MANTON  EASTBURN. 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Croswell,  Rector  of  the  Church  of  the  Advent,  Boston. 

Boston,  April  12,  1848. 
Right  reverend  and  dear  Sir  :  In  decUning  to  administer  con- 
firmation at  the  Church  of  the  Advent,  I  cannot  but  think  that  you 
are  continuing  to  do  us  a  great  wrong.     I  feel  bound,  therefore,  to 


1848.]  CHURCH   OF  THE   ADVENT.  413 

continue  my  solemn  remonstrance  against  it,  and  also  against  the 
inference,  that,  in  submitting  to  it  thus  far,  I  intend  to  waive  any 
canonical  ground  of  objection.  Under  this  protest,  I  beg  to  apprise 
you,  that,  from  my  long  and  interesting  connection  with  the  ancient 
parish  of  Christ  Church,  I  am  inclined  to  regard  your  appointment 
for  that  place  as  least  open  to  exception,  and  propose  to  present  my 
candidates  accordingly,  should  the  rector  permit,  on  Easter  Sunday 
evening. 

Faithfully,  your  presbyter, 

W.  CROSWELL. 
To  the  Right  Rev.  Manton  Eastburn,  D.  D.,  Bishop  of  Massachusetts. 

Accordingly,  the  following  correspondence  took  place  with  the 
rector  of  Christ  Church  :  — 

BosTOxV,  April  12,  1848. 

To  Reverend  John  Woart, 

Rector  of  Christ  Church,  Boston. 
Reverend  and  dear  Sir :  Of  the  churches  in  the  city  in  which  I 
am  allowed  by  our  bishop  to  present  my  candidates  for  confirma- 
tion, you  can  readily  conceive  by  what  associations  I  am  led  to 
name  Christ  Church,  when  excluded  from  my  own.  It  seems  to  be 
my  duty,  first,  however,  to  obtain  your  permission  for  what  might 
otherwise  be  considered  as  an  encroachment  on  the  rights  of  pres- 
byters and  parishes ;  and  I  wish  to  assure  you,  that  the  movement 
is  involuntary  on  my  part,  and  I  disclaim  all  responsibility  for  it. 
Very  truly,  yours, 

W.  CROSWELL. 

The  Reverend  Doctor  Croswell. 

Reverend  and  dear  Brother :  It  will  be  perfectly  agreeable  to  me 
to  have  you  present  your  candidates  for  confirmation  to  the  bishop 
this  year  at  our  church.  You  can  make  such  communication  to 
Bishop  Eastburn,  if  you  desire  it ;  and  when  the  time  is  fixed,  I 
should  like  to  know  it,  as  I  shall  endeavor  to  be  present. 
Very  truly,  your  friend  and  brother, 

JOHN  WOART. 
Bedford  Sxeeet,  April  13,  1848. 

Bedford  Street,  Aiiril  19,  1848. 
Reverend  and  dear  Brother:  I  have  appointed  a  quarter 
past  seven  as  the  time  of  service  at  Christ  Church,  next  Sunday 
evening.  You  will  be  notified  by  the  sexton,  or  by  some  other 
person  at  the  door,  which  pews  are  to  be  occupied  by  your  candi- 
dates. 


414  MEMOm  OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1848. 

As  to  the  service  on  such  occasions,  I  usually  refer  every  thing 
to  the  bishop,  the  reading  of  the  prayers,  &c.,  &.c. 

Affectionately,  in  Christ,  your  friend  and  brother, 

JOHN  WOART. 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Croswell. 

Having  thus  again  submitted,  under  protest,  to  the  bishop's  un- 
reasonable dictation,  he  had  only  to  proceed,  patiently  and  dili- 
gently, in  his  daily  duties,  and  in  preparing  his  class  for  the  ensuing 
solemnity.  A  few  brief  sketches  from  his  "  Words  of  Days,"  and 
other  memoranda,  will  show  how  he  was  occupied  during  the  dis- 
tinguished week,  commonly  called  Passion  week,  which  preceded 
the  great  festival  of  Easter. 

"  Sunday  next  before  Easter,  April  16.  Rector  at  Sunday 
school  with  Rev.  Dr.  Eaton.  ,  .  .  Rector  baptized  an  adult, 
and  preached  on  the  supper  at  Bethany,  as  introductory  to  the  ser- 
vices of  the  week.  P.  M.,  baptized  seven  children.  Preached  on 
the  triumphal  entry  of  Christ  into  Jerusalem.  After  service,  per- 
formed funeral  solemnities  in  the  church. 

"  Monday,  April  17.  Morning  service  by  rector,  assisted  by  Rev. 
Dr.  Eaton  and  Rev.  Mr.  Pollard.  A  few  remarks  on  the  service 
made  by  the  rector.  Evening  service  by  the  same.  Sermon  by 
rector :   '  They  shall  look  on  Him  whom  they  have  pierced.' 

"  Tuesday,  April  18.  Morning  service  as  yesterday.  Short 
commentary  by  rector  on  service  and  the  twenty-second  Psalm. 
Evening  service  by  the  same.  Sermon  by  the  rector,  on  '  the 
cleansing  of  the  temple.'     Large  congregation. 

"Wednesday,  April  19.  Morning  service  as  before.  Remarks 
on  treachery  of  Judas.  Evening  service  by  rector  ;  also  the  ser- 
mon, on  the  Lord's  supper.  The  choir  in  attendance  at  every 
service  this  week.     Music  very  solemn  and  impressive. 

» Thursday,  April  20.  Morning  service  by  rector  and  Messrs. 
E.  and  P.  Sermon  by  rector,  on  '  Gethsemane.'  At  evening  ser- 
vice, Mr.  P.  assisted  rector  in  prayers.  Rector  preached  on  char- 
acter and  warning  of  Pilate. 

"Good  Friday,  April  21.  Morning  prayer  by  Rev.  Mr.  P.  The 
rest  by  the  rector,  assisted  by  Rev.  Dr.  E.,  in  the  epistle.  Rector 
preached :  '  Behold  the  Lamb  of  God.'  Large  congregation. 
Music  very  touching.  Evening  service  at  half  past  seven.  Prayers 
by  Rev.  Mr.  P.  Lessons,  psalter,  and  sermon  on  the  penitent 
thief,  by  the  rector. 

"  Easter  even,  April  22.  Morning  service  by  rector  and  Rev. 
Messrs.  E.  and  P.  Sermon  by  rector,  on  the  holy  women  resting 
according  to  the  commandment.  After  service,  baptized  two  adults. 
At  evening  service,  rector  and  Rev.  Mr.  P.  officiated.  Sermon  by 
rector,  on  '  burial  of  Christ.'     Baptized  two  persons. 


1848.1  CHURCH   OF  THE   ADVENT.  415 

"  Easter  day,  April  23,  — 

'  Sweet  day,  so  calm,  so  soft,  so  bright, 
The  bridal  of  the  earth  and  sky.' 

At  Sunday  school.  Rev.  Dr.  E.  officiated.  Morning  service  by  rec- 
tor, assisted  by  Rev.  Dr.  E.  Rector  prea«hed  :  '  The  Lord  is  risen 
indeed.'  Very  large  congregation  and  communion.  In  the  after- 
noon, rector  read  service,  Dr.  E.  assisting,  and  preached  :  '  Christ 
our  Passover,'  &.c.  After  service,  distributed  books  to  the  children, 
provided  as  an  Easter  gift  by  the  liberality  of  a  parishioner.  Can- 
didates for  confirmation  assembled  at  church  at  half  past  six  o'clock. 
Walked  to  the  house  of  God  called  Christ  Church,  in  company. 
Rector  assisted  Rev.  Mr.  Woart  in  the  evening  service,  and  read 
preface  to  the  confirmation  office.  Twenty  candidates  presented  by 
the  rector.      Church  very  full." 

It  is  further  mentioned,  as  a  significant  fact,  that  while  the  rector 
of  the  Advent  presented  his  tiotnty  candidates,  the  rector  of  Christ 
Church,  after  an  interval  of  two  years,  presented  but  nine  ;  and 
that,  at  the  recent  confirmations  in  St.  Paul's  and  Trinity,  there 
were  but  seven  presented  in  each  church.  It  is  also  stated,  as  a 
gratifying  circumstance,  that  the  late  governor  of  New  Brunswick, 
Sir  William  Colebrook,  and  suite,  attended  the  service  and  com- 
munion at  the  Advent  in  the  morning,  and  did  not  go  to  the  "  Ca- 
thedral "  (Trinity)  until  afternoon.  In  a  subsequent  letter,  he  says, 
"  I  was  favored  with  an  interview  with  Sir  William  Colebrook  and 
lady,  last  week,  and  was  much  delighted  with  their  simple  and  un- 
assuming manners.  Lady  Colebrook  is  particularly  devoted  to  the 
Church,  and  has  been  as  attentive  at  our  daily  service  as  her  health 
will  allow." 

To  show  in  what  estimation  his  recent  services  were  held  by  his 
parishioners,  it  seems  proper  to  transcribe  a  portion  of  a  note  from 
one  of  his  most  confidential  friends  of  the  laity,  to  whom  he  had 
loaned  his  late  correspondence  with  the  bishop  :  — 

"  Though  so  many  days  have  passed  since  Passion  week,  I  can- 
not return  these  papers  without  telling  you  of  the  great  numbers  in 
your  parish  who  have  spoken  of  you,  in  connection  with  the  ser- 
vices of  that  week  and  of  the  preceding  and  succeeding  Mondays, 
with  warm  gratitude.  One  gentleman,  in  particular,  asked  me  why 
I  would  not  let  you  know  what  we  all  felt.  It  seemed  to  many  of 
us  as  if  God  must  have  helped  you  in  an  especial  manner  to  go 
through  such  labors  with  so  earnest  and  imwearied  a  spirit.  It 
surely  will  be  blessed  to  you,  in  its  influences  on  your  people.  For 
myself,  in  particular,  I  beg  you  to  accept  my  most  hearty  thanks." 

.  The  following  letter  is  worthy  of  a  place  in  the  record  of  the 


416  MEMOIR  OF  WILLIAM    CROSWELL.  [1848. 

Lenten  services  of  this  year,  especially  as  it  presents,  in  so  true  a 
light,  the  spirit  in  which  he  desired  to  cultivate  intercourse  with  his 
clerical  brethren,  and  labor  in  his  divine  IMaster's  cause.  Those 
who  characterized  William  Croswell  as  a  formalist,  or  a  man  of 
extreme  and  exclusive  views  in  the  Church,  could  have  done  s( 
only  through  ignorance  or  malice.  The  Rev.  Dr.  Baury,  to  whom 
the  letter  is  addressed,  has  served  the  Church  in  Massachusetts  too 
long  and  too  faithfully  to  allow  his  position  to  be  questioned.  It 
is  hardly  necessary  to  say,  that  the  request  was  readily  complied 
with. 

Boston,  March  13,  1848. 

Reverend  and  dear  Brother  :  We  have  commenced  a  course 
of  Lent  lectures  at  our  church,  in  connection  with  the  Wednesday 
and  Friday  evening  services,  (at  five  o'clock,)  in  sustaining  which 
several  of  the  neighboring  clergy  have  been  kind  enough  to  unite. 

I  feel  greatly  the  need  of  brotherly  aid  and  countenance,  next  to 
the  supporting  grace  of  God. 

While  we  value  the  services  of  any  of  our  brethren,  without 
respect  of  persons  or  party,  at  such  time,  it  would  be  especially 
grateful  to  enjoy  those  of  the  elder  clergy  of  the  diocese,  faithful 
and  true,  with  whom  it  has  been  our  privilege  for  many  years  to 
walk  to  the  house  of  God  as  friends. 

If  you  could  make  it  convenient  to  be  in  town  on  either  of  those 
evenings  during  the  season,  and  could  name  the  time  in  the  course 
of  the  week  (so  as  to  prevent  its  conflicting  with  arrangements  yet 
to  be  made  with  the  other  clergy)  on  which  you  would  give  us  a 
word  in  season,  I  should  be  very  much  obliged. 

You  are  aware  that  no  constraint  of  conscience  is   attempted, 
with   regard   to    doctrine,    posture,   or  vestment.     Plain,  practical 
preaching  is  what  is  most  needed  with  us,  as  every  where. 
Yours,  in  haste,  but  affection, 

W.  CROSWELL. 

The  Rev.  Alfred  L.  Batjrt, 

Rector  of  St.  Mary's  Church,  Newton  Lower  Falls,  Mass. 

After  Easter,  he  dispensed  with  the  services  of  his  assistant,  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Pollard,  and  took  upon  himself  the  entire  duties  of  the 
parish,  including  three  services  on  each  Sunday,  and  daily  morning 
and  evening  prayers.  But  he  was  seldom  alone  in  the  performance 
of  these  services.  The  Rev.  Dr.  Eaton  always  stood  ready  to 
render  him  any  aid  in  his  power,  and  he  frequently  enjoyed  the 
further  assistance  of  his  visiting  brethren.  At  this  time,  his  general 
health  was  very  good ;  but  he  began  to  suffer  great  inconvenience 
from  a  local  difficulty,  which  continued  during  the  remainder  of  his 
life,  and  which   was   probably  the   precursor   of  the   malady  which 


1848.]  CIIUIICH   OF  THE  ADVENT.  417 

finally  proved  fatal.  Tliis  was  an  involuntary  spasmodic  or  convul- 
sive motion  of  the  facial  muscles,  and  for  a  few  seconds  at  each 
return  distorted  the  eye  and  the  mouth,  and  proved  a  serious  em- 
barrassment in  the  performance  of  his  public  services.  It  was  also 
peculiarly  troublesome  when  he  was  engaged  in  excitmg  conversa- 
tion. He  was  advised  to  avoid,  as  far  as  possible,  all  close  applica- 
tion to  study,  and  to  take  as  much  out-of-doors'  exercise  and  recre- 
ation as  his  duties  would  permit.  He  only  allowed  him.self  time, 
however,  to  make  a  few  short  visits  to  his  paternal  home  during  the 
season  ;  the  first,  with  all  his  family,  in  the  month  of  .Tune,  and 
another  at  the  time  of  the  commencement  of  Trinity  College.  This 
last  was  an  exciting  occasion.  He  had  been  appointed  by  the  House 
of  Convocation,  at  their  meeting  in  the  preceding  year,  to  deliver  a 
poem  before  the  convocation  at  this  commencement.  From  the 
first,  he  shrunk  almost  intuitively  from  this  task.  Under  the  inter- 
dict of  his  physicians,  and  amid  all  his  absorbing  occupations,  he 
felt  that  the  preparation  of  such  a  poem  would  be  altogether  too 
formidable  a  task  upon  his  powers.  He  had  other  reasons,  also,  as 
will  be  perceived  from  the  subjoined  extracts  from  his  correspond- 
ence, for  wishing  to  dechne ;  and  hence  he  endeavored  to  excuse 
himself  from  the  undertaking.  He  immediately  addressed  a  note 
to  Richard  H.  Dana,  Esq.,  who  had  been  named  as  a  "substitute," 
in  case  of  his  failure,  in  which  he  says,  "  I  see,  by  the  Calendar, 
that  the  'Trinitarians'  have  had  the  presumption  to  name  you  as  a 
'substitute'  for  a  poet,  and  —  Heaven  save  the  mark! — that  poet 
me.  If  I  thought  that  you  could  be  induced  to  entertain  the  idea,  — 
and,  for  the  sake  of  the  Church  and  the  college,  it  is  to  be  desired 
greatly,  —  I  would  gladly  stand  out  of  your  way."  But  it  would 
seem  that  Mr.  Dana  was  not  disposed  either  to  interfere  or  come 
to  his  relief  As  the  time  approached,  he  felt  more  and  more  un 
equal  to  the  task  of  preparation  ;  and  hence,  writing  to  his  father 
during  the  session  of  the  diocesan  convention,  he  says,  "  As  soon 
as  the  convention  is  over,  I  shall  inform  the  scribe  of  tlie  House  of 
Convocation  that  I  shall  be  obliged  to  decline  the  poem  at  Trinity. 
My  face  has  got  to  twitching  at  a  troublesome  rate ;  and  the  doctor 
says  I  must  not  think  too  intently,  nor  apply  myself  to  the  pen 
My  daily  cares  are  about  all  that  I  am  equal  to.  Besides  this,  I 
have  greater  and  greater  misgivings  of  the  lawfulness  of  holdinj; 
these  exercises  in  consecrated  places  of  worship,  especially  when 
a  necessity  is  involved  of  building  platforms  over  the  place  of  the 
most  sacred  mysteries.  In  these  respects,  it  is  time  that  judgment 
began  at  the  house  of  God.  The  sessions  of  our  ecclesiastical  con- 
ventions, even,  I  regard  as  among  the  worst  kinds  of  profanation  ; 
much  more,  the  academical."  He  wrote  accordingly.  "  But,"  lie 
says  in  a  subsequent  letter,  "  they  will  not  take  ?io  for  an  answer. 
So  I  must  keep  at  work."  And,  finally,  on  the  25tli  of  July  !/■ 
53 


418  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1848. 

writes,  "  You  see  that  I  am  gazetted  as  laureate  at  Trinity,  next 
week  ;  and,  though  much  unwritten  poetry  remains  to  be  developed 
before  I  shall  be  ready,  I  shall  probably  be  on  baud." 

Of  the  poem  thus  reluctantly  prepared  he  entertained  a  very 
mean  opinion.  He  declined  furnishing  a  copy  for  publication,  and 
the  original  manuscript  is  nowhere  to  be  found  complete.  The 
only  copy  in  the  possession  of  his  biographer  (such  as  it  is)  was 
made  by  another  hand,  without  his  approbation,  and  it  bears  this 
indorsement,  made  by  his  own  hand:  "A  wi'etched  copy  of  as 
wretched  a  doggerel."  The  poem  certainly  was  composed  and 
delivered  under  many  disadvantages ;  but  this  judgment  of  his  is 
too  severe.  He  seemed  to  have  a  mind  too  much  occupied  with  his 
many  duties,  to  find  the  quiet  which  yielded  his  best  inspiration  as 
an  author.  The  laborious  duties  of  his  parish,  with  a  daily  morning 
and  evening  service,  and  such  other  cares  as  came  upon  him,  ab- 
solutely prevented  him  from  finding  the  time  to  write  it  out  with 
any  care.  He  informed  one  of  his  most  intimate  friends,  who,  after 
it  had  been  delivered,  asked  to  see  it,  that  it  was  not  in  a  legible 
condition  ;  that  he  had  composed  and  written  a  considerable  portion 
of  it  in  the  cars,  after  he  left  Boston  for  Hartford  to  attend  the 
commencement ;  that  there  was  a  great  want  of  connection  between 
different  parts  ;  and  that  the  versification  was  very  imperfect.  Great 
allowances,  it  is  granted,  must  be  made  for  his  health,  and  other 
circumstances,  some  of  which  have  been  mentioned,  and  others  of 
which  cannot  be  properly  introduced ;  yet,  while  it  is  admitted  that 
their  disadvantageous  influences  may  be  traced  in  the  poem,  it  is 
thought  by  many  that  they  tended  quite  as  strongly  to  unfit  him  to 
exercise  a  candid  judgment  upon  its  merits.  If  the  object  of  this 
memoir  were  solely  or  chiefly  to  perpetuate  his  reputation  as  a 
poet,  there  would  be  more  occasion  to  doubt  an  editor's  right  to  use 
this  manuscript  with  any  freedom.  When,  however,  he  rose  to 
perform  his  appointed  duty  in  the  convocation  of  Trinity  College, 
lie  had  it  in  mind  to  discharge  a  higher  duty  also.  He  stooped,  as 
it  were,  to  veil  in  rhyme  an  argument  which  would,  perhaps,  have 
commanded  the  attention  of  fewer  persons,  had  he  brought  it  forward 
in  solid  prose. 

"  A  verse  may  find  him  who  a  sermon  flies." 

Mindful  of  this,  rather  than  not  to  speak  his  mind  where  he  felt  a 
word  was  so  much  needed,  lie  chose  to  speak  it  in  a  manner  which 
it  seems  was  so  distasteful  to  himself.  This  argument  in  its  tone 
and  aim  is  so  thoroughly  in  harmony  with  his  character,  that  a 
faithful  biographer  cannot  pass  it  by  without  some  special  notice. 
The  excuse  made  for  printing  some  part  of  it  is,  however,  one 
rather  to  his  memory  than  to  the  reader.     The  whole  poem  is  quite 


1848.]  CHURCH   OF  THE   ADVENT.  4!9 

as  good  as  most  of  those  productions  to  which  similar  occasions 
give  rise.  To  those  who  are  famiUar  with  its  local  and  personal 
allusions,  it  might  probably  seem  to  claim  the  first  place.  But  those 
parts  the  biographer  has  for  the  most  part  suppressed,  from  a  con- 
sciousness that  with  other  readers  they  might  leave  an  unfair  im- 
pression of  the  poem.  The  "  poem  "  may  be  said  to  be  a  metrical 
essay  on  the  reverence  due  to  sacred  places  and  holy  things,  and  an 
exhortation  to  the  cultivation  of  such  reverence,  especially  in  the 
Church  and  its  academical  and  collegiate  institutions.  "  His  own 
feelings  on  the  misuse  of  churches  for  commencement  exercises 
have  just  been  quoted  from  a  letter;  they  appear  more  at  large  in 
the  poem.  The  poem  is  too  irregular  to  allow  an  analysis  ;  but,  by 
way  of  explanation  of  some  allusions,  it  may  be  said,  that  in  the 
beginning  he  takes  his  audience  back  to  their  early  college  life, 
mingling  these  reminiscences  with  alternate  touches  of  wit  and 
pathos.  Being  a  graduate  at  Yale,  — the  alma  mater  of  a  large  part 
of  the  members  of  Trinity  College  House  of  Convocation,  —  his 
references  are  naturally  turned  to  that  place  ;  and  recalling  the  por- 
traits in  the  Philosophic  Hall,  thus  speaks  of  one  of  Yale's  ancient 
patrons :  — 


There  first  we  gazed  on  the  serene  expanse 

Of  Berkeley's  bright  and  heavenly  countenance, 

And  could  not  but  contrast  it,  in  our  sport. 

With  thy  pinched  visage,  prick-eared  Davenport  ; 

Nor  queried,  as  we  turned  to  either  face. 

Which  were  the  real  genius  of  the  place. 

Taught,  in  a  brother's  words,  to  love  in  thee 

"  Earth's  every  virtue,  writ  in  poesy  ; " 

O  Berkeley,  as  I  read,  with  moistened  eyes, 

Of  thy  sublime  but  blasted  enterprise,*  — 

Refusing,  in  thy  pure,  unselfish  aim. 

To  sell  to  vulgar  wealth  a  founder's  fame, 

But  in  thy  fervor  sacrificing  all 

To  objects  wortliy  of  the  name  of  Paul,  — 

What  joy  to  see  in  our  official  line 

A  faith  revived,  identical  with  thine ; 

Pledged  to  fulfil  the  spirit  of  thy  scheme. 

And  prove  thy  college  no  ideal  dream. 

And  when,  on  yonder  walls,  we  now  survey 

The  man  "  whose  grace  chalked  his  successor's  way,' 

And  study,  Samuel,  thy  majestic  head, 

By  Berkeley's  son  to  heaven's  anointing  led, 

And  see  the  ways  of  Providence  combine 

The  gentle  bishop  with  the  masculine, 

*  St.  Paul's  College,  Bermuda. 


420  MEMOIR  OF   WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1848. 

We  pray  this  noblest  offspring  of  thy  see 
May  honor  Berkeley,  nor  dishonor  thee. 

And  join  with  these  those  master  minds  of  yore 

Who  loved  their  college  much,  but  conscience  more,  — 

Cutler  and  Johnson,  —  M'hom  one  rigorous  day 

Drove  out  from  Yale,  a  voluntary  prey, 

To  reap  at  once  by  Cam  and  Isis'  side 

The  honors  which  maternal  scorn  denied. 

Though  it  might  well  provoke  their  reverend  smiles 

To  think  of  rivalling  those  immortal  piles  ; 

Yet,  as  aspiring  over  sect  and  clique. 

To  follow  all  that  made  them  catholic. 

If  they  were  here  from  Christ  Church  chimes  afar, 

To-day,  as  Cutler's  two  successors  are,* 

They  would  have  prayed,  dear  Trinity,  to  see 

"  No  drought  on  others,  but  much  dew  on  thee." 

He  then  discusses  the  adaptation  of  architecture  to  its  true 
intent ;  and  after  noticing  some  anomalies,  such  as  the  common  use 
of  the  model  of  the  holy  sepulchre  for  railroad  engine  houses,  in- 
vokes better  things  for  Trinity  College  :  — 

Harvard  and  Yale  have  both  revived  the  style 
And  antique  grandeur  of  some  fine  old  pile. 
Those  solemn  towers  —  how  beautiful  they  stand, 
Like  mighty  minsters  of  our  fatherland  ! 
But  not,  alas !  for  worship ;  though  their  looks 
Be  so  cathedral  like,  they  hold  but  books ; 
The  form,  without  the  spirit,  each  retains  — 
The  vizard  of  the  fable  without  brains. 
And  so  they  sever  piety  from  art, 
Addressing  more  the  intellect  than  heart. 

Not  to  resist  the  truism  of  the  hour, 
We  freely  grant  that  knoivledge  may  be  poioer ; 
But  on  our  knees,  and  not  on  alcoved  shelves, 
We  find,  through  God,  the  knowledge  of  ourselves. 

But  far  from  such  unholy  sights  as  these 

The  hopes  that  haunt  our  sacred  reveries : 

In  yonder  hall  there  yet  is  room  to  spare 

For  store  of  books  —  would  that  the  books  were  there ! 

But  if,  indeed,  the  love  of  letters  hold 

Its  place,  as  handmaid  to  tlie  faith  of  old, 

*  Rev.  Drs.  Eaton  and  Choswell. 


1848.]  CHURCH   OF  THE  ADVENT.  421 

And  -we  would  have  that  favored  site  to  be, 

Above  all  others,  "  fair  exceedingly," 

Let  Wheaton  plan,  like  this,  another  shrine 

For  purposes  exclusively  divine  ; 

Not  York  Cathedral,  "  on  a  smaller  scale," 

And  "  much  improved  where  the  dark  ages  fail ; " 

Nor  yet  King's  College  Chapel,  that  "  immense 

And  glorious  work  of  fine  intelligence  ; " 

But  "ff/Z  ive  can. —  high  Heaven  disdains  the  lore 

Of  nicely-calculated  less  or  more." 

There,  with  the  stony  archwork  overhead, 

Beneath  our  feet  the  ashes  of  the  dead, 

And  monumental  efBgies  around. 

The  soul  might  wander  as  in  holy  ground, 

And  feel  a  soft  religious  sadness  brood, 

Deepening  the  spirit  of  its  quietude. 

There  let  the  sun  "  salute  with  his  first  smile 

Our  holiest  symbol  crowning  the  dear  pile  ; " 

And  be  the  power  of  architecture  shown 

To  lift  the  Athanasian  creed  in  stone. 

Within,  a  tempered  light,  like  sunset  skies, 

Let  glimmerings  of  a  thousand  gorgeous  dyes 

Shed  streaming  down  from  every  pictured  pane, 

Their  rainbow  glories  round  the  vaulted  fane, 

And  through  the  window  o'er  the  altar  fling 

The  heaven-hued  symbols  in  enamelling. 

•'  And  beams  thus  hallowed  through  the  scenes  they  pass 

Tell  on  the  floor  their  parable  of  glass." 

There  let  the  organ  and  the  strain  devout    ' 

Make  every  stone  in  sympathy. cry  out. 

Like  some  harmonious  fabric  of  the  Lord's, 

"  Whose  vaults  are  shells,  and  pillars  tuneful  chords." 

There  let  the  surpliced  priests  in  order  stand  — 

And  why  not  white-robed  choirs  on  either  hand  ? 

If  this  be  too  extravagant  a  pitch, 

(Alas  !  that  our  endowments  are  not  rich,) 

Still,  "  what  we  can."    Let  us  contend,  at  least, 

For  daily  service  and  the  vested  priest ; 

And  let  the  season  blend,  in  fixed  career, 

The  Christian  and  the  academic  year ; 

Be  music  carried  to  the  full  extent 

Allowed  by  ancient  choral  precedent ; 

And  let  the  students'  well-trained  voices  swell 

Each  hoary  laud,  time-honored  canticle. 

Which  England,  purged  from  superstition's  stain. 

Resumed  among  her  earliest  rites  again. 


422  MEMOIR  OF  WILLIAM  CROSWELL.  [1848. 

Hark !  how  the  strains,  increasing  far  and  wide, 
Rise  from  Geneva  *  and  from  Riverside  If 
Like  deep  to  deep  the  billowy  anthem  calls, 
From  far  Nashotah  to  her  own  St.  Paul's, 
And  rings  through  her  affiliated  halls. 
Vale  of  the  Cross,  as  gentle  shepherds  tell. 
Such  sounds  are  heard  in  thy  secluded  dell ; 
From  Corbin's  grot  the  selfsame  chant  is  raised, 
And  "  daily  prayer  is  made,  and  daily  is  He  praised." 

Perhaps  it  is  not  scandal  to  compare 

Such  courts  with  that  amphibious  place  of  prayer, 

(Contrived,  like  Goldsmith's  chest,  two  debts  to  pay  —    ■ 

A  bed  by  night,  a  chest  of  drawers  by  day,) 

Where  now  a  while  in  worship  we  engage, 

Then  knights  and  squires  shall  enter  on  the  stage, 

Which,  for  a  time,  a  meeting  house  is  made, 

And  then  it  glitters  in  a  masquerade. 

Four  years  I  saw  the  central  aisle  divide 

The  rows  of  rising  seats  on  either  side, 

Where  double  choirs,  ward  over  against  ward, 

Might  sing  responsive  praises  to  the  Lord. 

But  not  so  these :  while  yet  the  tutor  reads, 

The  muster  master's  busy  work  proceeds. 

In  due  obeisance  every  head  was  bent 

Upon  the  entering  of  the  president, 

But  held  it  superstitious  for  the  free 

At  Jesds'  name  to  bow  the  lowly  knee. 

And  scarce  the  echoes  died  of  prayer  and  praise. 

Before  the  youths  declaimed  or  spouted  plays. 

These  are  the  ways  which  in  our  western  climes 
Make  the  "  men-children  of  these  forward  times ;  " 
Of  whom  old  Drydren  said,  so  long  ago, 
"  But  seven  wise  men  the  ancient  world  did  know. 
We  scarce  know  seven  that  think  themselves  not  so." 
Against  these  evils  let  the  Church  commence 
Her  sure  protection,  and  her  "  cheap  defence." 
Though  worldly  cares  have  chilled  devotion's  flame, 
Here  let  our  needs  a  daily  homage  claim ; 
Here  let  our  prayers  like  morning  incense  rise. 
Our  lifted  hands  like  evening  sacrifice  ; 
Devotion's  debt  at  morn  and  eve  to  pay. 
And  magnify  our  Savior  day  by  day. 

*  Hobart  Free  College,  at  Geneva,  New  York. 

t  The  seat  of  Bishop  Doane,  at  Burlington,  New  Jersey. 


1848.]  CHURCH  OF  THE  ADVENT. 

In  order  these  great  objects  to  secure, 
All  must  be  first  begun  in  miniature ; 
And  if  a  while  your  patience  will  but  bear 
With  these  plain  couplets,  I  will  tell  you  where 


This  is  the  place  and  time ;  at  once  begin 
Here  to  restore  the  ancient  discipline  ; 
Adopt  the  Church's  homogeneous  plan 
To  make  the  boy  the  father  of  the  man ; 
Where,  in  their  due  development,  appear 
The  blade,  the  ear,  the  full  corn  in  the  ear, 
And  making  good  the  old  proverbial  line. 
Just  as  the  twig  is  bent,  the  trees  incline. 

Let  every  pupil  with  his  sapling  aid 

To  fill  the  grounds  with  shrubbery  and  shade ; 

Plant  oaks  and  "  elms,  those  undissenting  trees," 

That  grow  not  fast,  but  thrive  for  centuries ; 

Beneath  whose  shadow,  ages  hence,  our  heirs 

May  bless  our  forethought,  and  take  thought  for  theirs. 

And  let  the  English  ivy,  high  and  thick, 

Conceal  the  tame  monotony  of  brick  — 

Amid  the  snows  of  winter  evergreen, 

From  summer  suns  a  most  refreshing  screen. 

Nor  would  my  scheme  reject  the  dining  hall, 
Where  what  was  meant  for  one  was  meant  for  all ; 
Such  as  it  was  of  old,  when  common  food 
Was  made  a  bond  of  Christian  brotherhood. 
And  each  might  wait,  and  of  his  Savior  learn 
"  To  be  as  him  that  serveth,"  in  his  turn. 

But  first  of  all  erect  a  chapel  there. 

And  join  at  morn  and  eve  in  common  prayer  ; 

If  means  be  wanting,  take  yon  upper  room. 

And  teach  the  light  to  counterfeit  the  gloom ; 

Then,  chastening  down  the  gaudy  light  of  day. 

Subdue  the  thoughts  bewildered  with  their  play. 

And  let  the  organ  add  its  soothing  sway. 

Set  up  the  holy  altar  there,  and  trail 

Their  young  affections  round  the  chancel  pale ; 

Purging  the  taint  of  heresy  and  schism 

By  constant  portions  of  the  catechism. 

In  open  view,  let  none  regard  the  floor 

Too  low  when  prostrate  mortals  would  adore, 

But  duly  raise,  upon  their  bended  knees. 

The  full  response  of  ancient  litanies ; 


iSH  MEMOIR  OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1848. 

Invoke  their  Savior  in  his  Church's  voice, 

And  in  his  eucharistic  hymns  rejoice. 

The  pointed  Psalter,  printed  in  their  heart, 

There  let  them  learn  to  bear  their  tuneful  part. 

Drilled  on  the  cadence  of  that  thrilling  scale 

Which,  caught  from  seraphs,  must  o'er  earth  prevail. 

So  shall  the  watered  seed  spring  up,  and  so 

Children  of  grace  to  giant  stature  grow. 

Nor  let  us  see  that  holy  place  within 

A  priest  "  with  broadcloth  buttoned  to  his  chin." 

Holmes  writes,  "  Heaven  needs  no  surplice  ; "  as  if  he 

Thought  Heaven  was  pleased  when  men  dressed  slovenly. 

Heaven  needeth  not  man's  wisdom,  but  much  less 

It  needeth  any  of  man's  foolishness. 

If  this  be  superstition,  may  we  be 

All  guilty  of  it  in  the  first  degree. 

Remembering  thus  Jerusalem  in  his  mirth. 

Sweet  Herbert  found  his  very  heaven  on  earth ; 

And  Milton  tells,*  as  Milton  only  can, 

What  there  he  learned  —  poor,  superstitious  man! 

O,  on  yon  slope,  may  some  such  towers  arise 

As  plumed  his  wings  sublime  for  paradise ; 

Where,  in  our  day,  due  feet  might  never  fail. 

Like  his,  to  walk  the  studious  cloisters'  pale. 

And  love,  like  him,  the  high  embowered  roof 

Resting  on  antique  pillars,  massy  proof, 

And  catch  through  storied  windows  richly  dight 

A  dim,  religious,  "  superstitious  "  light : 

There  may  we  hear  the  pealing  organ  blow 

To  full-voiced  choirs,  antiphonal,  below. 

In  that  same  service  high,  and  anthems  clear, 

As  oft  with  sweetness  through  his  charmed  ear 

Dissolved  great  Milton's  self  to  ecstasies, 

And  brought  all  heaven  before  his  raptured  eyes. 

And  yet  another  tabernacle  rear 

For  such  occasions  as  have  brought  us  here ; 

Above  the  stir  and  din  of  mangling  mart. 

Beside  the  ancient  passage  of  the  HART,f 

Let  faith  and  fancy  help  to  give  to  fame 

"  A  local  habitation  and  a  name." 

Beneath  the  dogstar  and  midsummer  heat. 

Let  no  procession  through  the  burning  street, 

With  tasselled  cap  and  academic  gown. 

Exposed  to  the  annoyance  of  the  town, 
*  n  Penseroso. 
t  The  name  of  the  river  by  -which  the  coUege  grounds  are  bo\mded. 


CHURCH   OF  THE   ADVENT. 

Like  needless  alexandrine  in  the  song, 

Or  wounded  snake,  trail  its  slow  length  along ; 

Pavilioned,  if  it  need  be,  in  a  tent, 

Until  some  Wickham  makes  it  permanent ; 

Or  cloistered  where  o'erarching  boughs  have  made 

Refreshing  contiguity  of  shade  ; 

There  let  us  gather,  where  no  sounds  intrude 

To  break  the  silence  of  the  solitude 

Save  song  of  native  birds,  or  piercing  scream 

Of  railroad  engine  clattering  o'er  the  stream. 

If  we  must  have  processions,  let  them  pass 

When  shadows  lie  the  longest  on  the  grass ; 

And  for  this  martial  music,  let  there  be 

Such  chants  as  floated  down  the  S34van  Dee  — 

The  "  Miserere  mei,  Domine." 

And  let  the  bell  in  yonder  humlJle  tower 

Wake  dewy  silence  at  an  earlier  hour, 

And  usher  in,  betimes,  the  festal  day 

"  With  merry  peal  and  changeful  roundelay  " 

Thus  in  the  morning,  far  from  Babel's  dust. 
These  August  days  might  yet  be  days  august, 
And  words  of  power  the  place  might  glorify, 
Which  willingly  the  world  would  not  let  die. 
Tiiere  Dana  might,  in  happiest  mood,  rehearse 
Some  last  great  effort  of  his  deathless  verse  ; 
Or  Irving,  like  Arcadian,  might  beguile 
The  golden  hours  with  his  melodious  style  ; 
Or  he  who  takes  no  second  living  rank 
Among  the  classics  of  the  Church  —  Verplanck; 
Or  he  whose  course  "  right  onward  "  here  begun, 
Now  sheds  its  brightness  over  Burlington, 
(Where  our  young  sons  like  noble  saplings  grow. 
And  daughters  like  the  polished  pillars  show,) 
And  with  the  elder  worthies,  join  the  throng 
Of  young  adventurers  for  the  prize  of  song. 

My  heart  upbraids  me,  friends,  with  double  wrong, 
While  I  inflict  and  you  endure  the  song. 
Were  we  indeed  in  earnest,  and  sincere. 
When  we  professed  that  heaven's  high  gate  was  here, 
And  set  apart  forever,  day  and  night. 
These  solemn  courts  for  old  liturgic  rite  ? 
Then  we  must  sure  be  wrong  ;  we  greatly  err 
Who  use  the  church  worse  than  the  theatre, 
And,  like  false  Israel,  our  high  places  raise 
As  scaffolds  on  our  sacrificing  days ; 
54 


426  TklEMOIIl   OF  WILLIAM   CROS^\TELL.  [1848. 

Where  one  at  least,  poor  victim  of  his  kind, 
If  not  as  strong  as  Samson,  yet  as  blind, 
Comes  sadly  forth,  to  make  Philistines  sport, 
And  immolate  himself  in  Dagon's  court ; 
Content  if  but  the  sacrifice  should  tend 
To  bring  these  gross  abuses  to  an  end. 
Pardon  thy  servant,  Lord,  if  he  profane 
These  hallowed  walls  with  his  unworthy  strain ; 
Forgive  this  once  all  that  to-day  he  durst  — 
His  last  transgression,  as  it  is  his  first  — 
In  telling  truths  which  every  body  knows. 
But  dare  not  speak  them  plainly  out  in  prose  ; 
And  for  the  future,  hear  his  solemn  pledge 
To  be  no  party  to  the  sacrilege. 

O,  would  we  teach  young  scholars  reverence, 

Let  judgment  hei-e  begin  —  take  these  things  hence  ; 

And  doubt  it  not.  His  Holy  Spirit  grieves 

To  see  His  house  made  like  a  den  of  thieves ; 

To  see  the  stage,  the  last  our  graduates  trod. 

Erected  o'er  the  altar  of  our  God  ; 

And  grave  divines  upon  the  platform  meet 

To  tread  our  holiest  things  beneath  their  feet. 

This  cannot  sure  be  right :  we  ask  to  see. 

If  not  perfection,  yet  consistency. 

No  wonder,  where  such  profanation  dwells. 

Our  sons  emerge  precocious  infidels. 

O,  better  far,  if  we  can  find  no  hall 

For  such  assembly,  to  have  none  at  all ; 

Or,  like  the  sons  of  knighthood,  take  degrees 

Before  the  altar,  on  our  bended  knees. 

Scarce  more  disgusting  this,  when  year  by  year. 

With  his  red  flag,  comes  in  the  auctioneer ; 

Abomination,  blazoned  on  his  face. 

Stands,  where  it  ought  not,  in  the  holy  place  ; 

Where  he  who  sells  combines  with  him  who  buys 

To  make  God's  house  a  house  of  merchandise. 

Within  the  sacred  altar's  rail,  or  desk, 

He  lifts  his  voice  in  impudent  burlesque ; 

Lays  godless  hands  upon  the  Bible  lid, 

Not  to  ask  blessings,  but  to  ask  a  bid  : 

And  voices,  never  heard  in  time  of  prayer, 

Are  emulous  in  loud  responses  there. 

O,  thus,  methinks,  might  Mammon  once  have  stood, 

With  that  same  look,  and  that  same  attitude, 

And  bent  his  downward  glances  to  behold 

Heaven's  courts  inlaid  with  patins  of  bright  gold. 


1848.]  CHURCH   OF  THE  ADVENT.  427 

And,  as  the  poet  tells,  admiring  more 

The  trodden  wealth  of  that  resplendent  floor 

Than  aught  enjoyed  of  holy  or  divine, 

In  vision  beatific,  at  the  shrine. 

But  had  that  spirit,  "  least  erect,"  the  gift 

With  which  our  modern  Mammons  follow  thrift. 

He  might  from  his  high  place  have  learned  to  muse 

Of  parcelling  heaven's  pure  pavement  into  pews; 

Seen  how  to  make  each  consecrated  floor 

Productive  gold,  that  was  but  wood  before  ; 

Where  men  have  leave  in  narrow  slips  to  pray, 

(If  pray  they  choose,)  provided  that  they  pay ; 

And  do  not  care  to  worship  on  their  knees, 

But  sit,  like  rows  of  meal  sacks,  at  their  ease. 

Unless  its  title  deeds  a  falsehood  tell. 
The  house  of  God  cannot  be  man's  to  sell ; 
Much  less  to  turn  it,  before  God  and  man. 
Into  a  kind  of  college  caravan. 
If  insincere  our  gift,  and  we  retain 
Part  of  the  price,  the  gift  is  worse  than  vain : 
We  dare  to  tempt  His  ancient  people's  fate. 
Whose  house  was  left  unto  them  desolate  ; 
And  though  no  gates,  like  theirs,  asunder  start, 
Nor  unseen  voices  cry,  "  Let  us  depart," 
The  glory  will  have  vanished,  and  our  God 
Have  written  on  its  portals,  Ichabod. 


Fi'om  this  time  the  distortion  of  his  face  became  more  and  more 
troublesome,  and  lie  felt  constrained  to  curtail  his  mental  labors  as 
far  as  practicable  ;  and  even  his  letters  were  despatched  with  un- 
usual brevity.  In  addition  to  this,  he  was  visited,  within  a  short 
period,  with  a  very  severe  domestic  affliction.  The  little  daughter 
whose  birth  he  had  gratefully  announced  at  the  opening  of  the  year, 
and  who  had  enjoyed  up  to  this  time  a  full  measure  of  health, 
now  began  to  betray  symptoms  of  wasting  disease.  The  first  inti- 
mation of  the  anxiety  produced  by  her  case  was  conveyed  to  his 
father  in  a  hasty  note  of  the  24th  September.  "  It  is  astonishing," 
he  says,  "  how  a  few  days'  illness  of  this  sort  will  affect  a  child. 
She  has  quite  faded  away  like  a  leaf;  and  unless  there  be  a  de- 
cided change  soon,  we  shall  be  much  discouraged."  But  a  single 
day  intervened  before  the  fatal  result  was  announced.  September 
26,  he  writes,  "  The  spirit  of  our  dear  little  Susan  was  called  away 
last  night,  to  be  where  the  souls  of  those  who  sleep  in  the  Lord 
•lesus  enjoy  perpetual  rest  and  felicity.  It  was  just  as  the  shades 
of  evening  drew  on,  and  the  light  of  day  did  not  fade  more  softly. 


428  MEMOIR   OF  ^\^LLIAM   CROSWELL.  [lSi8. 

She  had,  indeed,  a  gentle  dismission.  Sift  had  been  perfectly  quiet 
and  easy  since  morning,  and  we  gazed  on  her  sweet  face  as  if  it 
were  already  one  of  the  beatified.  I  need  not  say  that  we  feel 
acutely ;  but  we  are  still  and  calm,  and  from  the  bottom  of  our 
hearts  desire  to  kiss  our  Father's  rod,  and  bless  him  for  the  treasure 
now  so  safely  laid  up  in  heaven.  Our  hopes  are  cast  down.  We 
trusted  she  would  have  grown  up  in  your  love  and  blessing;  but  it 
is  better  so ;  and  our  only  prayer  is,  that  we  may  be  fitted  to  rejoin 
her  in  worlds  where  sickness,  and  death,  and  parting  never  come." 
October  3,  he  thus  describes  the  funeral  solemnities;  and  no  apol- 
ogy is  necessary  for  transcribing  these  particulars,  well  knowing 
that  those  will  best  understand  how  to  receive  them  who  have  them- 
selves suftt;red  the  like  affliction:  "Our  dear  child  —  or  ratlier  all 
of  her  that  was  mortal  —  was  buried  on  the  feast  of  St.  Michael's, 
the  services  of  which  were  so  beautifully  appropriate,  that  the  ser- 
mon of  Rev.  Mr.  Greenleaf,  who  officiated,  seemed  to  be  meant  for 
a  funeral  sermon.  Every  thing  was  so  done  as  to  be  very  soothing 
to  our  feelings.  While  she  was  laid  out  in  the  chamber,  in  her 
little  crib,  in  one  of  her  baby  dresses,  which  was  her  only  shroud, 
with  a  rosebud  in  her  folded  hands,  she  was,  as  it  were,  like  one 
fallen  into  a  sweet  sleep.  The  expression  of  her  face  was  beauti- 
ful ;  her  arms  never  lost  their  natural  color  ;  and  her  grandmother's 
silver  gift  cup,  full  of  the  sweetest  blossoms  and  flowers  which  the 
love  of  friends  could  select,  was  at  her  side.  It  was  a  sight  which 
many  came  to  see  and  weep  over.  .  .  .  We  had  a  sort  of  bier, 
made  of  a  thin  board,  covered  with  white.  This  was  carried  to 
church  by  four  little  girls  of  our  Sunday  school,  dressed  in  white, 
with  black  visites.  The  nurse  followed,  in  the  same  dress ;  then 
the  mourners,  in  procession,  walked  to  the  church.  Instead  of  a 
black  pall,  we  used  the  beautiful  white  blanket,  with  its  richly- 
wrought  border,  which  was  presented  to  her  mother,  during  Mary's 
babyhood,  at  Auburn.  It  was  a  lovely  sight,  divested  of  all  the 
usual  dismal  accompaniments,  and  which  do  not  seem  to  belong  to 
a  case  where  death  appears  to  have  no  sting  to  inflict,  except  upon 
the  bosom  of  survivors."  To  this  he  adds,  "  It  was  at  first  our  in- 
tention to  have  left  here  on  Monday  for  New  Haven,  that  my  wife 
and  Mary  might  make  you  a  visit,  while  I  went  on  to  New-ark,  Bur- 
lington, &c. ;  but  we  are  not  yet  quite  ready.  I  have  written  an 
apology  to  Mr.  Watson,  and  send  this,  something  in  the  same 
spirit."  From  this  letter  to  Mr.  Watson  one  or  two  extracts  are 
made :  "  I  had  looked  forward  with  much  expectation  and  interest 
to  being  present  with  you  on  the  great  day  of  the  consecration  of 
your  beautiful  church.  But  the  week  finds  me  in  great  aftliction, 
from  the  loss  of  oui-  infant.  .  .  .  And  I  am  laboring  under 
the  effects  of  a  local,  nervous  infirmity,  which  all  excitement  tends 
to  aggravate,  as  my  medical  counsellors  advise,  and  which  a  scene 


1849.]  CHURCH   OF  THE   ADVENT.  429 

like  this  to  which  you  invite  me  would  not  benefit.  I  reluctantly, 
therefore,  send  this  note  of  apology,  with  the  assurance,  that  in  a 
few  weeks  I  shall  hope  to  see  you  under  more  quiet  circumstances. 
I  then  expect  that  my  wife,  whom  I  do  not  like  to  leave  alone  just 
now,  will  he  able  to  accompany  me  as  far  as  my  father's,  at  New 
Haven,  while  I  proceed  to  Newark  and  Burlington.  My  health, 
meanwhile,  is  improving  here  by  rest.  Several  of  the  younger 
brethren  have  come  providentially  to  my  assistance  in  the  time  of 
my  need." 

After  a  few  days'  delay,  the  journey  here  projected  was  accom- 
plished ;  and,  for  the  remainder  of  the  year,  his  labors  were  much 
relieved,  not  only  by  the  voluntary  aid  of  his  brethren,  but  by  the 
engagement  of  the  Rev.  Oliver  S.  Prescott  as  his  regular  assist- 
ant. Of  his  complaints  in  his  face,  he  sometimes  writes  quite  de- 
spondingly,  and  seems  to  have  entertained  but  little  hope  of  present 
improvement.  In  one  of  his  last  letters  of  the  year,  he  says,  "  My 
ailments  are  much  as  usual.  I  am  much  inclined  to  let  my  medi- 
cines alone,  for  the  present,  —  our  doctors  so  advise,  —  and  try 
bathing,  galvanism,  riding,  and  exercise.  My  health,  apart  from 
this,  continues  very  sound ;  and  I  do  not  know  that  it  was  ever 
firmer." 


1849. 


After  this  temporary  relaxation,  he  seems  to  have  resumed  the 
duties  of  the  new  year  with  renovated  strength  and  spirits.  His 
weekly  letters  are  again  regularly  despatched ;  and  he  speaks  of  his 
general  health  as  "  never  better,"  and  expresses  a  hojje  that  the 
"  twitching  in  his  face  is  gradually  subsiding."  During  a  short  ill- 
ness of  his  new  assistant,  he  says,  "  Happily,  I  have  been  free  from 
any  disability,  and  have  carried  on  the  services,  with  the  help  of 
Mr.  Le  Baron,  the  curate  of  St.  Stephen's,  and  Mr.  Prescott's 
intimate  friend.  I  preached  twice  on  Sunday,  and  made  an  address, 
next  day,  on  the  Feast  of  the  Circumcision."  But  while  all  things 
else  were  thus  going  on  prosperously,  he  was  again  compelled  to 
renew  his  controversy  with  his  bishop,  by  contending  for  what  he 
considered  his  fair  and  legitimate  rights.  The  following  is  a  copy 
of  the  correspondence  :  — 

I. 

Feast  op  the  Epiphaws  1849. 

Right  reverend  and  dear  Sir  :  In  making  your  appointments 
for  administering  confirmation  in  the  city  parishes,  this  winter,  it  is 


430  MEMOIR    OF    WILLIAM   CROS\VELL.  849. 

my  earnest  request  that  this  privilege  may  be  extended  to  the 
church  of  which  I  am  rector,  and  which  is  hereby  put  at  your  dis- 
posal for  the  occasion  ;  or,  if  this  may  not  be,  that  some  other  op- 
portunity may  be  afforded  me  for  presenting  our  candidates.  I 
shall  endeavor  to  be  prepared,  any  day,  four  weeks  from  date. 
With  the  best  wishes  of  the  season, 

Very  sincerely  yours, 

W.  CROSWELL. 
The  Right  Rev.  Manton  Eastburn,  E'.  D.,  Bishop  of  Massachusetts. 

n. 

Tremont  Street,  Jamiary  9,  1849. 
Reverend  and  dear  Sir  :  I  have  received  your  note  of  Satur- 
day last,  and  in  reply  would  say,  that  I  will,  with  divine  permission, 
administer  confirmation  to  such  candidates  as  you  may  present  to 
me,  in  Christ  Church,  on  the  evening  of  Sexagesima  Sunday,  Feb- 
ruary 11.  The  present  evening  hour  of  service  is  seven,  and  will, 
I  suppose,  continue  for  some  time  to  come. 

Reciprocating  the  kind  wishes  of  this  joyful  season, 
I  am  very  truly  yours, 

MANTON   EASTBURN. 
The  Rev.  W.  Croswell,  D.  D. 

III. 

Boston,  January  13,  1849. 

Right  reverend  and  dear  Sir  :  I  have  to  acknowledge  the 
receipt  of  your  reply  of  the  9th  to  my  note  of  the  6th  instant,  in 
which  you  propose  to  administer  confirmation,  in  Christ  Church,  to 
such  candidates  as  I  may  present  to  you  on  the  evening  of  Sexa- 
gesima Sunday,  February  11.  I  had  cherished  the  hope  that  you 
would  at  length  recognize  the  propriety  of  making  that  periodical 
visitation  to  our  parish  which  the  rules  of  the  Church  contemplate ; 
and  1  alluded  to  the  other  alternative  solely  with  a  view  to  avoid 
the  renewal  of  an  unpleasant  controversy.  In  submitting,  however, 
once  more  to  the  painfid  necessity  which  you  have  imposed  upon 
me  for  three  successive  years,  and  by  which  the  administration  of  a 
solemn  and  interesting  rite  has  been  deprived  of  some  of  its  most 
endearing  personal  attractions,  I  feel  it  to  be  my  duty  to  enter  my 
solemn  protest  against  your  refusal  to  visit  the  Church  of  the  Ad- 
vent, as  involving  a  violation  of  the  first  section  of  the  twenty-fifth 
canon  of  1832.  A  part  of  this  section  declares,  "  It  is  deemed 
proper  that  such  visitations  be  made  once  in  three  years,  at  least, 
by  every  bishop,  to  every  church  within  his  diocese." 

Without  entering,  at  present,  upon  the  question,  whether  such  an 
intimation    of    propriety   be    not   binding    upon    the    bishops,   and 


1849.1  CHURCH   OF  THE   ADVENT.  431 

whether  it  has  not  "  always  had  in  their  eyes  the  force  of  the  most 
positive  enactments,"  I  content  myself  with  this  simple  renewal  of 
ray  protest ;  and,  acting  under  it,  will  endeavor,  by  divine  permis- 
sion, to  meet  your  appointment. 

Very  sincerely,  yours,  in  all  duty, 

W.  CROSWELL. 
Right  Rev.  Manton  Eastbukn,  Bishop  of  Massachusetts. 

IV. 

Boston,  January  13,  1849. 
Reverend  and  dear  Sir:  The  bishop  of  the  diocese  has  di- 
rected me  to  present  my  candidates  for  confii-mation  at  Christ 
Church,  on  the  evening  of  Sexagesima  Sunday,  February  11,  at 
seven  o'clock.  Constrained  as  I  am  to  submit  to  this  requirement, 
it  is  not  without  a  solemn  protest,  as  being  in  contravention  of  the 
twenty-fifth  canon  of  1833.  If  you  have  any  objections  to  the 
proposed  arrangement,  you  will,  of  course,  make  them  to  the 
bishop ;  and  if  I  hear  nothing  to  the  contrary,  I  shall  expect,  God 
willing,  to  conform  to  the  bishop's  appointment. 

Very  truly,  your  friend  and  brother, 

W.  CROSWELL. 
The  Rev.  John  Woart,  Rector  of  Christ  Church. 

In  conformity  with  this  arrangement,  after  the  full  services  of  the 
day  at  his  own  church,  including  a  baptism  and  the  instruction  of 
the  Sunday  school  children,  he  met  some  of  his  candidates  in  the 
evening,  and  proceeded  to  Christ  Church.  Writing  on  the  follow- 
ing day,  he  says,  "  Our  confirmation  was  held  last  evening,  as  was 
proposed.  Several  of  the  candidates  were  not  able  to  go,  through 
sickness  or  other  impediment.  But  we  still  had  twenty —  as  many, 
and  more,  than  could  be  conveniently  accommodated  about  the 
chancel."  Two  additional  candidates  were  presented  by  the  rector 
of  Christ  Church.  But  in  the  midst  of  the  services  the  gaslight 
failed,  producing  some  delay  and  annoyance,  and  candles  were  sub- 
stituted, two  of  which  were,  "  most  ominously,  set  upon  the  altar." 
Tliese,  however,  while  the  bishop  was  confirming,  were  carefully 
extinguished  by  the  rector  of  the  church.  "  The  bishop's  address," 
he  adds,  "  was  very  good  ;  but  the  sermon,  which  he  intended  to  de- 
liver '  from  the  pulpit,'  in  consequence  of  the  accident  to  the  lights, 
was  omitted.  It  fell  to  my  lot  to  read  the  lesson,  which  was  the 
second  for  the  evening,  according  to  the  calendar,  (2  Cor.  vii.,) 
which  you  will  see  to  be  not  altogether  inappropriate." 

February  26,  he  writes,  "  We  have  entered  on  our  Lenten  ser- 
vices in  a  good  spirit,  and  I  expect  that  our  candidates  who  received 
confirmation  so  recently  will  all  make  their   first  communion   next 


432  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1849. 

Sunday.  Our  week-day  prayers  are  better  attended  than  usual,  and 
things  in  general  look  very  encouraging." 

From  this  time  the  labors  of  the  season  passed  on  uninterrupt- 
edly, until  the  1 4th  of  March,  when  he  was  unexpectedly  summoned 
home  by  a  telegraphic  despatch,  announcing  the  severe  sickness  of 
his  father.  After  a  hasty  preparation,  he  made  the  journey  on  the 
following  day.  It  is  only  necessary  to  cite  a  few  passages  from  the 
letters  written  to  his  wife  during  this  visit  of  filial  duty  and  affec- 
tion to  show  the  current  of  his  feelings. 

March  15,  he  writes,  "  Although  you  have  heard  by  telegraph 
that  father  is  better,  yet  I  have  not  come  on  prematurely,  or  any 
too  soon.  I  find  his  situation  much  according  to  my  fears.  The 
sore  on  his  leg  has  obviously  had  its  connection  with  this  attack, 
and,  though  Dr.  Skiff  has  not  said  so,  doubtless  makes  it  danger- 
ous. On  Sunday,  as  I  am  told  by  several  of  our  friends,  he 
preached  with  unusual  earnestness  and  animation  ;  and  so,  indeed, 
as  one  observes,  has  he  done  on  the  Sundays  preceding  it,  '  making 
me  feel,'  the  friend  continues,  '  as  if  these  were  indeed  his  last 
sermons.'  After  his  labors  on  Tuesday,  he  came  home  exhausted, 
had  a  severe  chill,  and  all  the  symptoms  of  violent  fever.  He  ap- 
peared that  day  and  night  lethargic  and  stupid, — brain  inert,  —  a 
symptom  which  much  alarmed  the  doctor.  Yesterday,  however,  he 
was  more  comfortable,  and  so  continues  to-day.  His  head  is  very 
clear  and  free  from  pain,  and  at  times  to-day  he  has  perspired  very 
freely.  .  .  .  He  is  very  restless,  at  times,  and  has  scarcely 
slept  since  attacked.  He  is  not  entirely  without  appetite,  but  takes 
a  little  light  nourishment,  with  some  apparent  relisb."  On  the  fol- 
lowing morning,  he  writes,  "  Father  had  a  restless  night,  with  much 
fever,  relieved  at  intervals  by  profiise  perspiration.  This  morn- 
ing, however,  he  is  much  better  than  yesterday  morning  —  his 
countenance  more  natural,  his  tongue  freer,  his  skin  moist,  his  leg 
less  inflamed,  &c.  ...  I  feel  very  hopeful,  but  still  regard 
him  as  a  very  sick  man,  and  by  no  means  out  of  danger.  1  can- 
not, of  course,  think  of  coming  back  at  present,  and  give  up  the 
idea  of  being  home  again  before  Sunday."  He  adds,  in  a  post- 
script, "  I  need  not  say  that  father's  spirit  is  just  what  might  be 
expected  in  an  aged  Christian  priest  at  such  a  crisis." 

On  Saturday,  the  17th,  he  writes  as  follows  :  "  I  am  happy  to  re- 
peat that  fatber  continues  to  improve  ;  that  he  had  a  comfortable  day 
yesterday,  and  a  comparatively  comfortable  night.  The  doctor  has 
been  in  this  morning,  and  thinks  that  he  is  in  every  respect  doing 
well,  and  that  by  the  seventh  day,  Monday,  the  fever  will  leave  him. 
It  is  obviously  of  nnich  importance  that  I  came  home  as 
I  did,  as  it  has  a  happy  effect  upon  father's  spirits  that  I  am  here. 
For  the  same  reason,  I  must  stay  as  long  as  I  consistently  can.  By 
the  next  week,  I  trust,  he  will  be  greatly  advanced  on  the  way  ot 


1849.]  CHURCH   OF  THE   ADVENT.  433 

recovery ;  and  by  tlie  middle  of  the  week  I  hope  to  be  with  you 
again." 

Wednesday,  21st.  "  I  feel  now  as  if  I  could  leave  father  with  a 
good  hope  of  his  speedy  restoration  to  health.  .  .  .  All  that 
gives  him  any  trouble  now  is  his  leg  and  ankle  ;  but  I  have  been 
present  at  all  the  dressings,  night  and  day,  and  have  seen  a  gradual 
and  decided  improvement  each  time,  and  the  doctor  thinks  that  he 
will  have  no  difficulty  with  it.  ...  I  think  father  will  soon  be 
about  again,  and  in  better  health  after  this  turn  than  before." 

To  these  extracts  it  is  a  pleasure  to  add  a  faw  other  passages 
from  a  letter  to  his  friend  and  his  father's  friend,  Craus  Curtiss, 
Esq.,  of  New  York,  dated  March  19.  "  Your  anxieties,  of  course, 
are  with  us  for  father.  Upon  the  first  intimation  of  his  sickness, 
knowing  that  at  his  time  of  life,  and  after  the  enjoyment  of  such 
uninterrupted  health,  any  sickness  must  be  serious,  I  hastened  home, 
and  arrived  on  Thursday.  His  worst  symptoms  had  been  relieved 
by  that  time ;  but  he  was  very  restless  and  uncomfortable,  and  there 
was  enough  to  occasion  anxiety.  I  am  happy  to  say,  however, 
that  he  has  been  constantly  improving  since,  and  i^  almost  entirely 
free  from  fever  this  morning.  His  last  night  was  the  most  comfort- 
able which  he  has  yet  had.  The  condition  of  his  leg  is  mending, 
and  the  inflammation  seems  to  be  subsiding  as  the  other  symptoms 
improve.  He  seems  very  natural,  has  as  much  appetite  as  is  good 
for  him,  and  enjoys  such  food  as  the  rules  allow.  The  doctor  gives 
us  reason  to  expect  that  in  a  few  days  he  will  be  about  again  ; 
not,  I  trust,  to  resume  the  round  of  duty  under  which  he  has  sunk. 
It  will  be  difficult  for  me  to  be  absent  for  many  days 
longer  ;  and  as  soon  as  I  have  seen  father  through  this  conflict,  I 
shall  return."  Before  he  closes,  he  speaks  in  these  grateful  terms 
of  a  very  highly-finished  portrait  of  his  father,  painted  for  Mr. 
Curtiss  by  the  artist  Jocelyn  :  "  Many  a  time  have  I  thanked  you 
in  my  heart  that  his  portrait  would  survive,  and  one  so  worthy  of 
preservation." 

On  his  return  to  Boston,  he  resumed  his  regular  correspondence 
with  his  father  ;  though  it  was  not  until  the  29th  of  March  that  he 
received  any  return,  and  this  was  but  an  apology  for  a  letter.  But 
on  Tuesday  before  Easter,  April  3,  he  acknowledges  the  receipt  of 
a  full-length  epistle  :  "  I  rejoice  in  the  sight  of  a  letter  of  the  usual 
length,  and  bearing  evidence  that  the  inward  man  is  renewed  day 
by  day.  I  trust,  also,  that,  by  God's  good  hand  upon  you,  the  out- 
ward man  is  continuing  to  gain,  and  to  make  progress  towards  com- 
plete restoration."  In  the  same  letter  he  transcribes  the  following- 
passage  from  a  reply  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Potter,  of  Albany,  to  an 
inquiry  with  regard  to  the  state  of  his  sister-in-law,  who  had  been 
for  a  long  time  in  declining  health  :  "  I  have  been  greatly  comforted 
in  seeing  the  state  of  Mrs.  Sherman  Croswell's  mind.  It  is 
55 


434  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1849 

simple  and  unaffected,  but  most  real  and  most  wonderful.  Slie  is  quite 
cheerful ;  enjoys  things  about  her  with  her  usual  sweetness  ;  but 
loves  to  look  forward,  and  seems  to  see  no  terror.  Nor  is  this  owing 
to  want  of  depth  in  her  views.  I  never  saw,  especially  in  one  of 
her  vivacious  temper,  a  more  calm  and  beautiful  icaiting  !  " 

On  Easter  Tuesday,  he  writei?  in  high  animation :  "  These  glori- 
ous Easter  days !  Were  there  ever  any  thing  like  them  ?  They 
are  ahiiost  a  remedy  for  sickness ;  and  I  hope  they  will  have  a  heal- 
ing mercy  for  you,  though  you  may  yet  be  shut  up,  and  cannot  go 
to  the  temple  of  the  Lord.  Several  of  the  brethren  have  been 
deprived  of  the  same  privilege.  Brothers  Greenleaf  and  Woart 
have  both  been  confined  to  their  rooms  for  a  week  or  two,  and 
were  just  able  to  get  out  and  sit  in  the  chancel  on  Easter  morning. 
I  could  not  but  hope  that  you  were  doing  at  least  as  much."  This 
hope  was  fully  realized.  His  father  was  enabled  on  that  blessed 
day  to  go  to  the  house  of  God,  and  present  his  thank-oft'ering, 
though  not  sufficiently  recovered  to  take  any  part  in  the  services. 
He  proceeds  :  "  I  have  been  greatly  blessed  myself  with  health,  and 
all  other  enjoyments,  for  which  I  cannot  be  too  thankful.  Our 
Passion  week  services  were  interesting  and  well  attended.  The 
Easter  services  were  quite  transporting  —  music  inspiring  —  church 
full  —  communion  largest  that  we  have  yet  had.  We  filled  the 
font  with  sweet,  delicious  flowers  ;  and  a  silver  vase  on  a  shelf  of 
the  altar  contained  the  same  lovely,  natural,  significant  symbols  of 
the  resurrection.  We  have  received  many  tokens  of  aflectionate 
regard  ;  and  our  prospects,  individually  and  collectively,  were  never 
brighter." 

An  occasional  passage  is  found  in  his  correspondence  which 
raises  some  misgivings  with  regard  to  the  propriety  of  selecting  so 
freely  from  his  letters.  Here  is  an  example  :  "  As  to  old  letters,  I 
grow  very  remorseless,  and  think  it  safest  to  consign  them  to  de- 
struction —  reserving  perhaps  a  few  for  specimens.  Filled  as  they 
are  apt  to  be  with  personalities,  intended  for  one  confidential  eye, 
they  may  be  the  means  of  creating  feuds  and  heartburnings,  which 
would  not  be  compensated  for  by  all  the  letters  that  ever  were 
written.  My  own  accumulate  so  fast,  that,  excepting  our  family 
correspondence,  I  believe  that  I  shall  make  a  bonfire  of  the  bulk  of 
them.  .  .  .  What  I  have  written,  I  have  written  ;  and  1  hope, 
befoie  it  be  too  late,  all  my  letters  will  be  committed  to  the  flames. 
What  a  conflagration  will  they  not  make  !  —  less,  however,  than  if  they 
were  not  consumed,  considering  with  what  a  free  pen  I  have  been  in 
the  habit  of  writing."  Whatever  may  have  been  his  momentary  con- 
victions on  this  subject,  no  such  work  of  destruction  as  is  here  inti- 
mated was  ever  committed.  On  the  contrary,  his  well-arranged 
files  of  letters  and  papers  probably  outnumber  the  collections  of 
most  men  of  his  age. 


1849.]  CHURCH   OF  THE   ADVENT.  4fVi 

Several  letters,  chiefly  of  a  private  and  confidential  nature,  ar<- 
here  passed  over ;  and  we  now  come  to  his  account,  under  date  of 
May  20,  of  his  excursion  to  Greenfield,  to  attend  the  consecration 
of  a  new  church  in  that  parish  :  "  I  was  at  Greenfield  on  the  10th, 
as  I  purposed,  and  really  had  a  very  delightful  time.  I  have  not 
ceased  since  to  regret  that  I  had  so  long  lost  the  personal  acquaint- 
ance of  friends,  whom  I  had  long  known  througii  Dr.  Strong,  and 
whose  society  I  should  hope  to  enjoy,  through  Christ,  in  eternity. 
It  is  twenty  years  that  I  have  been  promising  myself  and  them  to 
visit  Greenfield.  The  religious  services  were  very  interesting. 
The  consecration  was  on  Thursday.  Being  the  only  cleric  left,  1 
preached  on  Friday,  morning  and  evening,  and  had  service  again 
on  Saturday  morning.  On  Sunday  I  assisted  Dr.  Strong,  and 
preached  at  evening  service.  We  had  one  or  two  delightful  rides 
on  the  mountain  sides  around,  which,  like  the  hills,  enclose  Jerusa- 
lem.     On  Monday,  I  returned  to  Boston." 

On  Whit  Monday  he  writes,  "  We  commemorated  the  great 
feast  of  Pentecost  under  circumstances  that  were  very  inspiring. 
There  was  a  devout  assemblage,  a  goodly  number  of  whom 
remained  to  celebrate  our  holiest  act  of  worship,  and  to  call  mightily, 
as  I  trust,  with  the  faithful  every  where,  for  the  communion  of  the 
Holy  Ghost  the  Comforter.  To-day  we  continue  the  memorial, 
and  resume  it  to-morrow  again.  Then  follow  the  Ember  days, 
the  sacramental  lecture  on  Friday,  preparatory  to  the  last  crowning 
festival,  in  which  we  acknowledge  the  glory  of  the  Eternal  Trinity, 
and,  in  the  power  of  the  divine  Majesty,  worship  the  Unity.  Truly 
this  is  an  anniversary  week  to  the  souls  who  prefer  the  old  festivals 
of  enduring  interest  to  the  novel,  local,  and  ephemeral  anniversaries 
that  are  now  drawing  people  together  in  this  city.  ...  As 
soon  as  this  week  is  over,  I  shall  begin  to  cast  about  to  see  what  I 
can  best  do  for  recruiting  myself  during  the  warm  weather.  In  the 
present  state  of  concern  with  regard  to  the  cholera,  I  shall  not  care 
to  go  far  from  the  city.  And,  indeed,  I  shall  expect  to  derive  more 
benefit  from  little  excursions  to  the  neighboring  beaches,  exercise, 
and  sea  bathing,  where  I  shall  be  entirely  by  myself,  than  amid  such 
scenes  of  social  excitement  as  may  be  connected  with  the  visiting 
of  friends.  I  have  reason  to  bless  God  that,  apart  from  this  local 
inconvenience  in  my  face,  my  health  never  seemed  better."  .Tune 
4,  speaking  of  the  health  of  the  city,  he  says,  "  Some  cases  of  de- 
cided cholera  have  occurred,  but  as  yet  ihey  are  kept  out  of  the 
papers.  Indeed,  they  have  been  chiefly  imported,  or,  if  indigenous, 
among  the  filthier  and  more  intemperate  portions  of  our  miserable 
fellow-creatures.  Boston  is  in  a  much  less  fit  condition  of  prepa- 
ration than  on  the  former  visitation.  The  population  has  greatly 
increased  ;  and  those  parts  of  the  city  which  are  most  exposed  are 
crowded  to  excess.      Still  there  is  much  to  favor  us :  the  sea-wind  — 


436  MEMOIR  OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1849. 

the  comparative  cleanliness  —  the  complete  system  of  sewerage, 
much  more  perfect  than  that  of  any  other  city  in  the  country,  as  I 
am  told  —  and  the  inclined  plane  of  the  hills,  cleansing  them  more 
readily  than  if  we  were  on  the  stagnant  level  of  New  York. 
However,  our  dependence  is  on  the  God  whose  providence  directs, 
permits,  restrains  all  influences,  seen  and  unseen,  in  whatever  way 
he  pleases ;  and  our  ohvious  duty  is,  watching  unto  prayer."  Of 
his  little  daughter,  whose  health  had  been  suffering  for  some  time 
past,  he  says,  "  Mary's  seventh  year  was  completed  yesterday.  Her 
health  seems  quite  restored,  as  well  as  her  spirits.  She  has  some 
flesh  and  strength  to  acquire,  however,  before  she  will  be  where  she 
was  before  her  sickness." 

June  25,  after  speaking  of  a  prevailing  epidemic,  to  which  several 
prominent  persons  had  fallen  victims,  and  of  various  recommenda- 
tions of  the  physicians  as  to  diet  and  regimen,  he  turns  to  topics 
of  personal  consideration.  "  Yesterday,  St,  John  Baptist's,  was  the 
twentieth  anniversary  of  my  ordination  as  priest  and  institution  into 
the  rectorship  of  Christ's  Church,  Boston.  It  was  a  solemn  day 
to  me.  The  Holy  Communion  was  administered.  By  another  co- 
incidence, I  attended  a  funeral  at  Christ's  Church,  in  the  absence 
of  the  rector  ;  but  there  was  a  sad  change  in  the  place. 
Next  month.  Providence  favoring,  I  shall  probably  go  to  the  White 
Hills.     Afterwards  I  hope  to  see  you  at  home." 

Writing  again,  July  3,  he  says,  "  While  it  continues  as  safe  and 
pleasant  here  as  at  present,  I  shall  not  think  of  leaving  Boston,  ex- 
cept on  short  excursions  about  the  suburbs.  My  friend  Stimpson 
is  ready  to  accompany  me  to  the  White  Hills,  either  immediately, 
or  after  the  19th  :  as  at  present  advised,  I  prefer  the  latter.  It  is 
said  that  there  has  been  a  great  rush  that  way,  in  consequence  of 
the  fear  of  the  cholera  having  driven  visitors  from  their  usual  resorts 
to  the  Springs,  «fec.  Primitive  mountain  districts  have  generally 
been  exempt  from  those  visitations  of  mortal  disease ;  and  I  under- 
stand that  neither  Switzerland  nor  the  Granite  Hills  have  known 
much  about  it.  This  is  a  consideration,  however,  which  is  calculat- 
ed to  increase  the  company  as  the  season  advances ;  and  we  shall 
expect  to  find  the  peaks  more  populous  than  usual,  and  perhaps 
more  than  is  comfortable,  as  the  accommodations  are  rather 
straitened." 

July  15,  he  again  resumes  these  personal  sketches :  "  We  went 
down  to  Marblehead  and  Pliilip's  Beach  one  day,  to  find  some  re- 
fuge (from  the  heat.)  Another  day  I  spent  at  Nahant.  A  third  I 
sat  on  the  Common,  by  the  fountain,  to  catch  what  I  could  of  the 
breeze,  such  as  it  was.  ...  I  am  going  to  the  Point  at  South 
Boston  for  a  week  or  two,  with  wife  and  Mary,  to  try  sea  bathing. 
Then  I  expect  to  set  out  for  the  Wliite  Hills ;  and,  after  that,  shall 
set  my  face  homeward." 


1849.]  CHURCH   OF  THE   ADVENT.  437 

In  his  letter  of  the  23d  he  mentions  an  ill  turn  experienced  by 
his  little  daughter  Mary,  which  had  given  him  much  anxiety.  She 
had  formerly  had  a  similar  turn  while  visiting  at  New  Haven  ;  and, 
in  both  instances,  it  seemed  unlike  an  ordinary  fainting  fit,  as  she 
fell  heavily  upon  the  floor,  and  remained  for  a  few  moments  un- 
conscious. "  But  (he  says)  she  soon  revived,  and,  except  some 
slight  injury  from  the  fall,  seemed  to  suffer  no  inconvenience.  Of 
course,  however,  it  keeps  us  anxious." 

On  the  last  day  of  July,  he  writes,  "  We  have  come  in  from 
South  Boston,  and  I  am  preparing  for  our  departure  to  the  White 
Hills  on  Thursday.  I  should  prefer  to  remain  till  after  the  great 
Fast ;  but  am  at  the  disposal  of  my  friend  Mr.  >Stimpson,  who  can 
only  order  it  thus.  ...  I  shall  send  you  word,  as  we  go,  of 
our  movements.  We  shall  make  our  plans  as  we  go  along.  At 
present,  I  only  know  that  our  purpose  is  to  go  to  Claremont  on 
Thursday,  and  there  remain  until  the  following  Monday." 

Accordingly,  he  writes  his  next  letter  from  Claremont,  where  he 
spent  the  national  Fast  and  the  following  Sunday.  "  I  am  in  the 
company,  as  you  know,  of  my  friend  and  parishioner,  Mr.  F.  H. 
Stimpson,  who  bears  all  the  expenses  of  the  journey.  His  connec- 
tions in  this  beautiful  town  have  been  very  kind  and  hospitable,  and 
I  have  enjoyed  our  quiet  sojourn  here  exceedingly.  I  fancy  that 
my  health  is  somewhat  improved.  To-morrow,  at  noon,  we  pur- 
pose to  take  up  our  line  of  travel  to  Wells  River  by  railroad ; 
thence  to  Littleton  by  stage.  How  we  shall  get  to  Franconia,  and 
thence  to  the  Notch,  are  questions  which  I  cannot  resolve ;  but  shall 
apprise  you,  through  my  wife,  as  we  proceed." 

Under  date  of  "  Franconia  Notch,  Wednesday  morning,  August 
8,"  he  writes  to  his  wife  and  friends,  "  We  left  Wells  River  in  a  stage 
with  but  three  passengers,  over  a  charming  road,  for  which  privilege 
we  paid  double  fare.  .  .  .  We  dined  at  Littleton,  twenty  miles 
from  my  last  mail,  on  the  Great  Amonoosuck.  At  half  past  one 
we  left  in  a  buggy,  and  a  carpet  bag  contained  our  duds.  At  four 
o'clock  we  were  in  this  wild  spot.  Compared  with  all  that  I  have 
had  to  look  upon  in  past  days,  niethinks  I  have  seen  no  scenery 
before.  We  were  in  luck ;  as,  being  in  advance  of  the  mail,  we 
secured  one  of  the  best  sleeping  rooms  in  the  house.  Large  parties 
came  in  afterwards,  and  there  were  more  than  fifty  at  tea.  We 
found  no  acquaintance  among  them,  however.  The  first  persons  we 
overtook  on  our  way  to  the  house  were  Rev.  Messrs.  Noble  and 
Kidney,  who  had  just  reached  there  before  us.  They  are  truly 
very  choice  spirits.  .  .  .  They  have  been  footing  it  all  round 
here  for  this  fortnight,  and  have  wonderfully  gained  in  strength  and 
health  by  the  excursion.  May  it  be  so  with  me.  .  .  •  Fran- 
conia is  the  place,  you  know,  for  the  long  thermometers.  It  was 
very  cool  here  yesterday.     At   evening,  the  fire  in  the  bar  room  is 


4;>3  MEMOIR    OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1849. 

comfortable.  At  sunrise,  this  morning,  the  glass  was  at  forty-eight, 
but  probably  much  lower  in  the  night.  .  .  .  After  breakfast, 
we  shall  pass  on  five  miles  farther,  to  the  Flume  House,  —  probably 
dine  there,  —  and  return  to  Littleton  to-night.  To-morrow,  we 
take  a  fresh  start  in  the  stage  for  Crawford's  Notch  House,  where 
we  shall  hope  to  find  letters." 

With  the  exception  of  some  brief  notes  in  his  journal,  but  few 
particulars  of  this  pleasant  excursion  can  be  collected.  "  Sunday, 
August  12.  Rain  all  day.  At  eleven  conducted  service  in  the  httle 
parlor,  and  read  Wilmaivis's  sermon  on  the  Christian  Scholar.  Spent 
most  of  the  day  in  my  room.  Sore  throat  came  on  in  the  evening ; 
the  effect,  doubtless,  of  the  dampness.  Monday,  13.  Rain  held 
up  after  dinner.  We  rode  through  the  Notch.  Left  our  chaise  at 
the  foot  of  the  descent,  and  walked  to  Crawford's  Notch  House. 
To  ascend  the  mountain  to-morrow,  if  the  weather  permit.  Tues- 
day, 14.  Promise  of  a  clear  day.  After  breakfast,  set  off  with 
seven  others  in  company,  besides  our  guide,  for  the  summit. 
Woods  very  wet.  Seven  hours  ascending,  by  '  Old  Crawford's ' 
road.  Few  views  by  the  way.  Returned  in  the  mist  and  rain. 
Wednesday,  15.  Waited  all  day  for  a  chance  to  get  to  Conway. 
Limbs  rather  weary.  After  dinner,  rode  to  Conway.  Arrived  at 
ten.  Glorious  view,  before  sunset,  of  the  White  Hills,  Pequaket 
Mountain,  Conway  Peak,  ifec.  Thursday,  16.  Beautiful  morning. 
By  stage  to  Centre  Harbor.  Fine  ride.  Conway  Peak,  in  all  its 
aspects,  for  many  miles.  At  the  harbor  to  dine.  Crossed  the 
lake.  Railroad  to  Concord.  Friday,  17.  Early  breakfast.  At 
six,  set  out  towards  Boston.  At  Nashua,  parted  with  my  friend 
Mr.  Stimpson,  and  went  to  Groton  junction,  whence  I  took  the 
Fitchburg  railroad  to  Montague.     Thence  by  stage  to  Greenfield." 

His  next  letter  to  his  father  is  under  date  of  Greenfield,  Satur- 
day, August  18  :  "  Having  been  brought  safely  on  my  way  thus  far, 
I  drop  a  line,  in  haste,  to  acknowledge  the  receipt  of  yours  at  the 
White  Mountains,  and  to  say,  that  I  hope  to  meet  wife  and  Mary 
at  Springfield,  and  proceed  to  the  parsonage  in  New  Haven  in  the 
train  that  leaves  there  soon  after  one,  on  Monday.  Under  the 
shadow  of  the  paternal  roof,  we  will  recount  our  journeyings  and 
rest  a  while." 

It  was  during  this  brief  visit  to  Greenfield  that  the  following  lines 
were  written.  To  those  who  are  not  familiar  with  the  localities  of 
that  town,  a  word  of  explanation  is  necessary.  He  had  been  climb- 
ing a  steep  but  thickly-wooded  hill,  which,  overlooking  on  opposite 
sides  the  town  and  the  valley  of  tlie  Connecticut  River,  presents  on 
the  west  a  rocky  and  almost  perpendicular  descent  to  the  plain  on 
which  the  village  stands.  A  projecting  rock  which  overhangs  this 
precipice  is  known  as  "  Tiie  Poet's  Seat."  The  ladies  of  the  party 
entlironed   him    there,  and,  standing   on   the  higher   summit  of  the 


1849.]  CHURCH   OF  THE  ADVENT.  439 

rock,  called  on  him  to  compose  some  verses  for  them.     Tlie  result 
was 

AN  APOLOGY. 

Emerging  from  the  storied  wood, 

Enforced,  I  took  the  poet's  seat ; 
Inspiring  faces  o'er  me  stood, 

And  Greenfield  lay  beneath  my  feet. 
With  lulling  sound,  I  heard  fast  by 

The  unseen  river's  broken  flows. 
And  all  things  seemed  to  multiply 

One  image  of  serene  repose. 

I  little  thought,  'mid  musings  vain, 

How  like  that  stone  to  fate  of  bard  — 
Rich  visions  floating  round  his  brain. 

But  ah,  his  seat,  so  lone  and  hard ! 
Of  friendship  and  of  feeling  full, 

How  little,  in  his  weakness,  dreamt  he 
That  head  and  fancy  both  were  dull. 

And,  like  his  rocky  inkstand,*  empty  ! 

But  the  rest  so  fondly  anticipated  in  the  letter  just  quoted  was 
scarcely  realized.  He  arrived  at  New  Haven  with  his  wife  and 
daughter  at  the  time  specified  ;  not,  however,  to  enjoy  much  quiet 
or  repose.  In  consequence  of  the  great  prevalence  of  sickness  and 
mortality  in  the  parish,  his  father's  time  and  attention  were  so 
wholly  engrossed  by  painful  and  exciting  duties  that  scarcely  a  mo- 
ment was  afforded  for  social  enjoyment.  Meanwhile  the  infirmity 
in  his  face  had  become  exceedingly  troublesome  ;  and,  to  add  to  his 
anxiety,  he  received  intelligence  from  Boston  which  convinced  him 
that  his  presence  might  be  required  in  his  parish.  The  following 
extract  from  a  letter  of  the  25th  to  the  Misses  Tarbell  shows  the 
state  of  his  feelings  at  the  time  :  "  I  cannot  say  that  my  difficulty 
is  any  better,  nor  do  I  think  it  likely  to  be,  simply  by  inglorious  inac- 
tion. I  purpose,  before  I  return,  to  go  to  Northampton,  and  make 
some  inquiries  about  the  water  cure.  Whether  any  thing  will  grow 
out  of  my  visit,  I  cannot  tell.  ...  It  will  be  my  desire  to  be 
in  my  own  place  on  the  first  Sunday  in  September,  unless  I  have 
counsel  to  the  contrary.  The  tidings  of  affliction  and  mortality 
among  our  dear  flock  make  me  very  sad.  I  would  I  had  been 
there."  Under  these  circumstances,  therefore,  it  was  thought  de- 
sirable to  shorten  the  visit,  and  return  at  the  end  of  a  single  week. 

*  A  little  hollow  in  the  rock  is  so  named. 


440  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1849. 

His  wife  and  daughter  passed  on  directly  to  Boston,  while  he  lin- 
gered for  a  day  or  two  at  Hartford,  for  the  purpose  of  consulting 
some  of  his  friends  who  had  advised  him  to  visit  the  water-cure 
estahlishment  at  Northampton,  before  his  return  to  his  parish. 
Writing  to  his  father  on  tlie  29th,  he  says,  "  It  was  my  purpose  to 
go  to  Northampton  to-day,  and  stay  as  long  as  I  could  ;  but  I  had 
a  letter  from  home  last  evening  informing  me  that  my  assistant  was 
taken  ill  on  St.  Bartholomew's  day,  —  threatened  with  cholera, — 
was  unable  to  officiate  on  Sunday,  —  and,  though  apparently  well 
again  yesterday,  would  be,  it  was  feared,  unable  to  go  on  alone  any 
longer.  It  was  thought  best  to  let  me  know  the  facts,  that  I  might 
act  according  to  my  own  judgment.  I  think  I  had  better  return 
to-day.  If  not,  I  shall  go  to-morrow,  after  looking  about  at  North- 
ampton to-day.  But  I  cannot  see  that  this  last  will  be  of  any  use  ; 
and  while  I  write,  my  mind  preponderates  in  favor  of  an  immediate 
return."  His  next  letter  is  from  Boston,  on  Friday,  the  31st : 
"  You  will  be  surprised,  but,  I  trust,  glad,  to  hear  that  I  am  so 
soon  safely  home  again.  My  stay  at  Northamptcni  was  sufficient  to 
satisfy  me  that  it  was  not  worth  while  for  me  to  remain.  I  was 
indeed  delighted  with  the  prospect  from  Round  Hill ;  but  the  town 
was  as  sickly  as  the  view  was  beautiful.  Indeed,  all  the  doctors 
were  among  the  invalids,  and  unable  to  comply  with  the  demand, 
'  Physician,  heal  thyself!'  My  judicious  friend  who  accompanied 
me  was  entirely  of  my  opinion  that  there  are  no  benefits  of  bathing 
or  exercise  that  would  not  be  open  to  me  with  greater  advantage 
here,  and  at  less  risk.  The  universal  spread  of  this  epidemic,  ma- 
lignant dysentery,  is  indeed  appalling.  But  in  the  interior,  amid 
the  luxuriant  vegetation  of  the  Cormecticut  valley,  and  the  miasma 
in  consequence,  the  effects  must  be  greatly  aggravated.  Persons 
from  the  seaboard  can  hardly  remain  a  day  or  two  at  Northampton 
without  resort  to  opium  and  camphor-  From  this  time  until  the 
frost  sets  in  strong,  there  is  no  place  in  the  world,  probably,  more 
healthy  than  Boston.  Those  who  have  remained  here  for  the  sum- 
mer, thus  far,  are  among  the  healthiest  people  that  I  have  met  with. 
May  God  speedily  restore  the  land  to  its  wonted  salubrity." 

September  3,  he  writes,  "  The  weather  is  so  clear  and  cool,  that  we 
trust  the  sickness  will  abate.  As  with  you,  there  are  all  around  us 
bleeding  and  bereaved  hearts  ;  and  it  is  indeed  a  gloomy  season. 
I  have  been  sent  for  to  attend  a  funeral  at  Deer  Island  to-morrow  ; 
and  go,  as  in  duty  bound,  trusting  that  the  God  whom  we  serve 
faithfully  will  preserve  us  from  all  peril." 

September  10,  after  alluding  rather  sadly  to  his  complaint  in  his 
face,  he  adds,  "I  am  beginning  to  patronize  the  riding  school,  and  look 
for  some  advantage  from  the  jolting.  Whatever  may  be  the  result, 
I  shall  not  give  up  working  again,  unless  it  be  for  a  voyage  abroad, 
or  something  of  the  kind,   of  which  there  is  but  little  probability. 


1849.]  CHURCH   OF  THE  ADVENT.  441 

Time,  at  the  longest,  is  so  short,  and  there  is  so  much  to  do,  I 
would  fain  be  found  doing  with  my  might  when  the  iiiglit  cometh 
wherein  no  man  can  work." 

September  18,  he  again  alludes  to  his  expedients  for  improving  his 
health  :  "  Equitation  grows  more  and  more  pleasant.  I  have  hope 
that  it  will  be  useful.  I  trust  that  I  am  gaining.  I  am  very  grate- 
ful for  friend  Peck's  suggestion  about  a  voyage  to  the  West  Indies, 
and  his  ofter  of  a  free  passage.  If  it  should  be  decided  that  I  must 
go  away,  I  know  of  nothing  that  would  be  pleasanter,  except  visit- 
ing the  elder  world  and  the  great  eastern  continent." 

The  following  description  of  a  solemn  and  interesting  inci- 
dent, whicii  took  place  on  Sunday  the  sixteenth  after  Trinity, 
and  which  is  very  briefly  alluded  to  in  his  journal,  is  from  an 
eye  witness,  who,  three  years  afterwards,  communicated  it  in  a 
note  to  his  father :  "  The  recurrence  of  this  day  calls  vividly  to 
mind,  among  those  here  who  participated  in  it,  a  service  in  Christ 
Church,  just  three  years  since,  at  the  close  of  day.  There  were 
present  Elmira  Tarbell,  from  the  Advent ;  a  daughter  of  the  late 
Rev.  W.  Lucas,  of  Auburn  ;  Miss  Mary  Prescott,  and  one  of  her 
younger  brothers,  from  your  own  parish  ;  Helen  C ,  and  my- 
self, formerly  of  Clirist  Church ;  and  the  pastor,  whose  sweet  influ- 
ences linked  us,  one  and  all,  in  a  conmion  bond  of  interest.  As  we 
stood  around  the  chancel,  he  remarked,  '  It  seems  fitting,  in  a  place 
like  this,  to  offer  some  act  of  worship ; '  and,  leaching  a  Prayer 
Book  from  the  altar,  he  selected  the  122d  Psalm  of  David  in  metre, 
and  then,  kneeling,  repeated  the  Lord's  Prayer,  and  the  two  peti- 
tions from  the  Institution  office,  and  applied  them  specially  to  the 
then  rector  and  congregation  of  Christ  Church.  Touching  and 
impressive  as  was  the  circumstance  at  the  time,  how  much  more  so 
now,  as  time  wears  on,  and  his  loving  spirit  seems  brooding  in  many 
holy  places,  especially  in  those  whose  representatives  were  then 
clustered  about  him  ! 

"  About  a  year  since,  and  perhaps  for  the  very  last  time,  he  whom 
we  mourn  was  in  that  sacred  edifice.  After  the  service  had  closed, 
he  went  into  the  vestry  ;  and  as  he  returned  to  the  church,  entered 
a  pew,  knelt,  and  was  alone  in  that  posture,  as  the  last  of  the  con- 
gregation left  the  porch.  Christ  Church  was  at  that  tiuje  without  a 
rector ;  and  there  are  those  that  can  bear  testimony  how  his  heart 
yearned  over  her  waste  places,  and  how  natural  his  prayer,  '  re- 
corded in  imperishable  verse,'  in  which  he  says, — 

'  I  ask,  dear  Church,  to  see 
No  drought  on  others'  husbandry. 
But  much  of  dew  on  thee  ! '  " 

Returning  now  to  his  own   correspondence,  the  following  is  from 
56 


4B  MEMOIR   OF   WILLIAM    CROSWELL.  [1849. 

his  letter  of  September  25  :  "  We  assisted  the  bishop  at  the  consecra- 
tion of  the  new  Cliurch  of  St.  Mary's,  Dorchester.  Some  twenty-three 
of  the  clergy  were  present.  By  reading  the  lessons,  I  was  allowed 
to  appear  in  a  surplice.  Unofficiating  brethren,  who  had  no  other 
robes,  were  not  allowed  by  the  bishop  to  wear  the  surplice,  but 
were  told  to  take  their  places  among  the  congregational  brethren. 
It  was  a  very  interesting  occasion,  and  the  prospects  there  are  high- 
ly encouraging.  The  next  day,  St.  Matthew's,  was  observed  at  the 
Advent  with  the  usual  solemnities.  Seven  of  the  clergy  were 
present,  and  thirty  or  forty  of  the  laity  at  the  Holy  Communion." 

Writing  again,  October  1 ,  he  says,  "  The  last  week  has  been  one  of 
many  solemn  anniversaries  to  us,  domestic  as  well  as  ecclesiastical. 
The  touching  remembrances  of  what  occurred  last  year  at  this  time 
gave  a  peculiar  zest  to  the  services,  with  which,  at  morning  and 
evening,  we  subdued  and  elevated  our  minds  for  the  celebration  of 
the  feast  of  St.  Michael  and  All  Angels;  and  we  thought  of  the  little 
one  taken  from  us  to  behold  with  its  angels  the  face  of  our  Father 
which  is  in  heaven.  The  Holy  Communion  was  administered,  as 
we  purpose  that  it  shall  be  on  all  the  Saints'  days ;  and  though  but 
fifty  or  sixty  were  present,  it  was  a  most  delightful  and  affecting 
service.  Our  protracted  meetings  increase  in  interest,  and  put  to 
shame  all  modern  devices  for  effecting,  what  the  Church  has  ever 
shown,  a  '  more  excellent  way.'  Good  seems  to  be  coming  of  it 
every  way.  " 

On  Friday,  October  26,  his  father,  from  whom  he  had  been  for  some 
time  anticipating  a  visit,  arrived  in  Boston,  and,  while  he  remained, 
participated  in  all  the  daily  services,  besides  assisting  in  the  com- 
munion, and  preaching  twice  on  Sunday.  But  his  plans  were  ma- 
terially interrupted,  and  liis  father's  visit  curtailed,  by  intelligence 
received  from  Albany  of  the  death  of  his  sister-in-law,  Mrs.  Sher- 
M.vN  Croswell.  She  had  been  long  in  a  dechning  state  of  health, 
and  her  friends  had  been  in  daily  apprehension  of  her  departure  ; 
but,  at  this  moment,  the  event  was  somewhat  sudden  and  un- 
expected ;  for  he  had  very  recently  written  to  his  father,  "  Her 
continuance  thus  far  seems  to  encourage  us  to  look  for  a  yet 
longer  stay.  Our  times  are  in  God's  hands !  "  Immediately 
on  the  receipt  of  this  intelligence,  he  wrote  to  his  cousin  at  New 
Haven,  "  We  have  just  received  the  telegraphic  intelligence  of  sister 
Delia's  decease.  Had  there  been  time  and  opportunity  to  have 
reached  Albany  before  the  funeral,  we  should  have  gone  off  together 
at  once.  But  this  was  impossible.  But  father  feels  so  anxious,  on 
every  account,  to  see  Sherman,  that  he  thinks  he  shall  leave  here 
for  Albany  on  Wednesday.  We  should  not  be  at  all  reconciled  to 
this  abbreviation  of  his  visit  under  other  circumstances  ;  but  we 
cannot  but  admit  the  sufficiency  of  his  reasons.  We  have  written 
to  Sherman  this  evening,  to  comfort  him,  and   apprise  him  of  his 


1849.]  CHURCH   OF  THE   ADVENT.  443 

father's  intentions."  Speaking  of  the  services  in  the  church,  he 
adds,  "  The  enjoyment  of  the  service  was  saddened,  but  deepened, 
by  the  affliction  whose  shadow  falls  so  deeply  on  us  all.  I  would  be 
^lad  to  go  with  father,  but  I  cannot  do  so  now.  I  hope  to  be  with 
Sherman  in  the  course  of  the  autumn.  Alas  !  we  do  all  fade,  in- 
deed, as  its  leaf"  * 

During  the  remainder  of  the  year,  he  seldom  alludes  to  his  health, 
and  especially  to  the  infirmity  in  his  face,  except  by  way  of  apology 
for  the  brevity  of  his  communications  ;  as,  for  example,  November 
9,  "  We  are  well.     My  eye  is  better,  really,  I  think ;  but  that  I  may 

*  No  apology  is  necessary  for  recording  in  this  place  the  following  just  and 
appropriate  obituary  sketch  of  the  deceased,  published  in  the  Albany  Argus, 
and  written,  as  appears  from  the  signature,  as  well  as  from  internal  evidence, 
by  her  revered  and  esteemed  pastor,  the  Rev.  Dr.  H.  Pottek,  rector  of  St.  Pe- 
ter's Chiu-ch :  — 

"  Died.  —  After  a  very  lingering  iUness,  early  on  Saturday  morning,  October 
27,  in  the  39th  year  of  her  age,  Mrs.  Delia  Adams,  wife  of  Sherman  C!ros- 
WELL,  Esq.,  one  of  the  editors  of  the  Albany  Argus,  and  daughter  of  John 
Adams,  Esq.,  of  Catskill. 

"  If  it  be  a  duty  to  commemorate  the  faithful  departed ;  if  purity,  and 
goodness,  and  devoted  affection,  and  cheerful  kindliness  of  heart,  appearing 
like  a  bright  light  even  in  suffering ;  if  a  humble  yet  serene  and  steadfast 
Christian  faith,  which  would  make  death  welcome,  ay,  and  suffering  welcome 
too,  and  drive  away  aU  gloom  from  the  chamber  of  sickness  and  death,  —  if 
these  qualities  are  worthy  to  be  had  in  honor  in  the  Church  of  God,  tlien  the 
grave  should  not  be  allowed  to  close  over  the  mortal  remains  of  Mrs.  Croswell 
without  some  words  of  affectionate  admiration.  Hundreds  have  remarked  the 
innocence,  the  simplicity,  the  peculiar  charm  of  manner,  the  bright  and  vivi- 
fying influence  which  Avent  with  her  through  all  her  life,  and  whicli  was  even 
more  remarkable  in  her  days  of  lassitude  and  sxiffering  than  it  had  been  in  her 
days  of  health ;  but  who,  except  those  who  saw  her  in  the  last  months  of  her 
iUness,  and  conversed  with  her  as  only  intimate  Christian  friends  can  converse, 
will  ever  know  any  thing  of  the  modest  yet  firm  and  all-sustaining  faith,  the 
heavenly  hope,  which  took  away  from  her  all  the  terrors  of  death,  made  her 
contented  and  pleased  with  all  that  was  appointed  for  her,  and,  while  slie  was  as 
humble  as  it  is  possible  for  a  Chi-istian  person  to  be,  yet  caused  her  to  be  so  in 
love  with  her  lot,  and  so  happy  in  it,  that  she  became  a  wonder  to  herself,  as  she 
was  to  all  her  friends  ?  Nothing  could  be  further  removed  from  enthusiasm,  from 
presumption,  from  high  pretension,  than  was  her  whole  character  and  man- 
ner, in  sickness  as  in  health.  What  was  seen  in  her  sick  room  w'as  the  peace- 
ful and  cheerful  spirit  of  one  who,  with  no  stain  upon  her  conscience,  had 
seen  things  temporal  and  things  eternal,  so  truly  as  they  are,  and  had  come  so 
very  near  to  her  heavenly  Father,  and  made  the  love  of  Chiist  so  much  her 
daily  study,  that,  ^\-hile  her  sympathies  and  affections  Avere  as  humane  and  as 
tender  as  ever,  her  tastes  and  desires  were  altogether  transformed,  and  she  only 
waiting  for  that  fulness  of  rest  which  ensues  when  this  troublesome  stage  is 
passed.  For  this  great  peace  there  was  a  solid  foundation  ;  and  to  be  fuUy 
aware  of  the  real  excellence  of  her  Christian  character,  it  Avas  necessary  to  have 
looked  through  the  natural  gayety  of  her  disposition,  and  observed  the 
thoughtfulness  and  the  scrupulous  fidelity  to  every  domestic  and  social  duty 
of  the  daily  life  —  to  have  seeuAvhat  she  Avas,  in  hours  of  strictest  privacy,  as  a 
daughter,  as  a  wife,  and  as  a  mother.  But  let  us  not  presume  to  draAV  aside 
this  veil.  '  It  becomes  us  to  be  modest  for  a  modest  person ; '  and  tlie  writer 
hastens  to  close  this  feeble  tribute  to  the  worth  of  one  Avho  was  so  lately  Avith 
us,  but  Avho  has  noAV  gone  to  join  a  nobler  company,  with  the  expression  of 
his  gratitude  that  he  was  permitted  to  be  the  Avitness  of  an  example  so 
attractive  and  so  cheering,  so  full  of  instruction,  encouragement,  and  conso- 
lation. P"" 


444  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL,  |1849. 

hold  what  I  have  gained,  I  must  abstain  as  strictly  as  may  be  from 
writing." 

The  following  incidental  remark,  in  a  note  of  November  12,  is 
worthy  of  record,  as  serving  to  show  the  estimation  in  which  the 
great  New  England  statesman  was  held  by  a  disinterested  observer: 
"  There  is  but  one  Daniel  Webster  ;  and  he  casts  into  a  prodigious 
shadow  the  ordinary  race  of  petty  men." 

November  20,  after  noting  the  services  of  the  previous  Sunday, 
he  says,  "  At  evening,  the  bishop  summoned  clergy  and  laity  to  St. 
Paul's,  to  hear  his  sermon,  preached  at  the  late  anniversary  (of  the 
P.  E.  S.  P.  E.  K.)  in  Philadelphia.  It  was  a  painful  exhibition. 
As  it  will  be  published,  I  suppose,  it  is  needless  to  attempt  an 
analysis.  Suffice  it  to  say,  I  am  not  yet  convinced  that  it  is  our 
duty  to  substitute,  for  our  profession  of  belief  in  the  Creed,  '  in  the 
Holy  Catholic  Church,'  '  I  believe  in  the  Massachusetts  Auxiliary 
to  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Society  for  the  Promoting  of  Evangeli- 
cal Knowledge.'  The  bishop's  view  of  the  baptismal  office  is,  that 
the  offering  of  thanks  for  the  regeneration  of  the  chi'd  is  altogether 
hypothetical ;  and  this,  perhaps,  explains  the  reason  why  the  office 
is  so  seldom  recited  at  Trinity  or  St.  Paul's." 

In  the  same  letter,  he  announces  his  intention  of  meeting  his 
brother  Sherman  at  the  paternal  home  on  the  ensuing  Thanksgiv- 
ing, the  29th.  He  arrived  on  the  27th,  and  his  brother  on  the  en- 
suing day.  Their  meeting  and  visit  were  exceedingly  pleasant  to 
all  parties ;  though  necessarily  short  on  his  part,  as  he  felt  con- 
strained to  be  at  his  post  on  the  great  anniversary  of  Advent  Sunday. 
He  returned  on  Saturday,  and  on  the  evening  of  Advent  Sunday  he 
found  time  to  drop  a  hasty  note  to  his  father.  After  noting  the 
impressive  services  of  the  day,  which  were  divided  between  his  as- 
sistant, Mr.  Prescott,  and  himself,  he  adds,  "  I  brought  back  from 
this  visit  to  New  Haven  very  precious  recollections ;  and  I  felt  that 
none  had  for  many  years  been  more  profitable.  Mother  thought 
me  sad  and  depressed  at  times ;  but  it  was  with  that  sort  of  sad- 
ness with  which  one  is  made  better  and  wiser.  To  tell  the  truth, 
my  mind  was  brooding  over  all  that  I  had  called  up  by  the  empty 
tread  of  the  desolate  rooms  of  our  old  residence,  in  which  I  had 
wandered  and  peopled  the  waste  places  with  thick-thronging  memo- 
ries. [This  was  the  house  in  Orange  Street,  in  which  his  family 
resided  during  his  boyhood,  and  in  which  his  brother  George  and 
his  sister  Jane  had  died.  It  being  at  the  time  without  inhabitant,  he 
procured  the  key,  and  paced  every  room  and  place  which  had  once 
been  so  familiar.]  I  had  long  desired,  too,  to  arrange  George's 
remains,  but  had  hardly  courage  to  do  so  till  this  opportunity  was 
affiirded  ;  and  it  was  a  melancholy  gratification  to  renew  and  deepen, 
by  that  examination,  the  convictions  which  I  had  always  entertained 
of  his  high  claims  to  the  love  and  esteem  with  which  we  regarded 


1850.]  CHUKCH   OF  THE   ADVENT.  445 

him  while  living,  and  shall  always  cherish  his  memory,  until  (as  I 
pray  by  God's  grace)  we  are  united  again  by  closer,  more  spiritual 
and  indissoluble  bonds,  in  an  everlasting  brotherhood.  Eldest, 
brightest,  and  best  —  how  far  short  have  we  come  of  his  early 
promise  ! 

' Alas  !  the  good  die  first ; 

And  those  whose  hearts  are  dry  as  summer  dust 
Burn  to  the  socket.' 

I  am  very  anxious  that  Sherman,  before  he  returns,  should  conclude 
upon  some  plan  of  setting  the  things  in  order  on  the  churchyard 
lot,  which  holds  so  much  sacred  dust." 

In  his  next  letter,  December  16,  he  speaks  of  Mr.  Hudson,  who 
had  acquired  a  high  reputation  as  a  lecturer  on  Shakspeare,  as 
having  been  admitted  to  the  sacred  order  of  Deacons  in  the  Church  ; 
and  being  at  this  time  a  resident  of  Boston,  he  adds,  "  He  will 
put  his  light  in  our  candlestick.  We  shall  have  three  services  on 
Sunday,  with  his  help,  and  shall  each  have  our  turn.  Being  Ember 
week,  and  the  feast  of  St.  Thomas  being  celebrated  with  the  ad- 
ministration of  the  eucharist,  we  have  much  of  solemn  public  duty ; 
and  it  will  not  be  diminished  much,  if  at  all,  for  many  weeks  to 
come.  I  feel  quite  relieved  of  any  anxiety,  however,  through  fear 
of  not  being  sustained.     A  threefold  cord  is  not  easily  broken." 

The  record  of  the  year  is  concluded  with  a  few  extracts  from  a 
letter  written  during  the  intervals  of  duty  on  Christmas  day : 
"  Yesterday  I  had  a  pleasant  duty  in  distributing  some  forty  or  fifty 
dollars  in  alms  —  though  rather  a  hard  time  to  set  '  traps  to  catch 
sunbeams.'  To-day  we  had  very  interesting  servi-ces  —  the  congre- 
gation was  large  —  and  the  evergreens,  which  were  put  up  yesterday 
after  morning  prayer,  very  thickly  woven  together,  and  in  excellent 
taste.  We  had  Dr.  Eaton,  Mr.  Prescott,  and  Mr.  Hudson  assist- 
ing—  the  music  was  inspiring — and  the  offertory  not  unworthy  of 
the  occasion.  Nine  o'clock.  Have  just  returned  from  our  second 
service,  where  Mr.  Prescott  gave  us  one  of  his  best  and  most 
appropriate  sermons.  There  were  not  so  many  jiresent  as  there 
ought  to  have  been  ;  but  the  few,  doubtlesSj  felt  that  it  was  good  for 
them  to  be  there." 


1850. 


"  A  HAPPY  new  year  to  you  all !  "  is  the  salutation  with  which 
he  opens  the  correspondence  of  the  year.  Though  cheerily  written, 
he  was  actually  suffering  at  the  time  from  slight  indisposition  ;  and 


446  MEMOm   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1850. 

several  circumstances  conspired  to  give  a  pensive  turn  to  his  musings. 
According-  to  his  annual  custom,  he  had  been  gathering  up,  arran- 
ging, and  filing  the  papers,  correspondence,  and  other  manuscripts 
of  the  past  year.  Many  striking  changes  were  thus  brought  vividly 
to  his  mind  ;  and  the  memory  of  departed  friends  naturally  awa- 
kened a  train  of  solemn  reflections  on  the  brevity  of  life,  and  the 
passing  away  of  the  years  of  his  own  probation.  In  writing  both 
to  his  father  and  brother,  he  makes  some  touching  allusions  to  the 
family  burying-place  at  New  Haven,  and  suggests  his  intention  of 
procuring,  at  Mount  Auburn,  a  lot  for  such  of  his  family  as  might 
depart  this  life  in  Boston.  But  apart  from  all  considerations  of  this 
nature,  he  was  doubtless  somewhat  disturbed  by  the  idea  that  the 
time  had  again  come  for  renewing  his  application  to  the  bishop  for 
an  official  visitation,  with  a  well-grounded  apprehension  that  the 
petition  would  again  be  denied.  In  this  apprehension  he  was  not 
mistaken,  as  the  following  correspondence  will  show  : — 


I. 

Feast  of  the  Circumcision,  1850. 
Right  reverend  and  dear  Sir  :  Will  it  be  convenient  for  you 
to  give  me  notice  of  an  appointment  for  administering  confirmation 
to  such  candidates  as  I  may  present,  in  season  to  be  announced  to 
our  congregation  on  the  feast  of  the  Epiphany  ?  With  regard  to  the 
time,  tlie  morning  of  either  of  the  two  Sundays  preceding  Lent 
would  be  prefen-ed.  As  to  the  place  where  the  service  ought  to  be 
held,  I  may  be  allowed  to  say  that  I  entertain  the  same  convictions 
as  I  have  already  repeatedly  expressed  to  you.  But,  without 
waiving  any  claim  of  privilege,  I  would  avoid,  at  present,  reviving 
controversy  ;  and  if  you  still  decline  visiting  our  parish  for  this 
purpose,  1  trust  the  office  will  be  permitted  to  take  place  in  your  own. 
With  my  best  wishes   for  a  happy  new  year, 

Very  sincerely  vours  in  the  office  of  priesthood, 

W.  CROSWELL. 
Right  Rev.  Bishop  Eastburn. 

II. 

Tremont  Street,  January  3,  1850. 
Reverend  and  dear  Sir  :  I  have  received  your  note  of  the  1st 
instant,  and  in  reply  beg  to  say  that  I  shall  be  happy  to  administer 
confirmation,  to  such  persons  as  you  may  present,  in  Trinity  Church. 
You  mention  either  of  the  two  Sundays  preceding  Lent  as  the  time 
you  would  prefer.  As  I  have  jxirposed,  however,  holding  my 
annual  confirmation  in  Trinity  sometime  during  Lent,  I  have  fixed 
upon  the  second  Sunday  in  Lent,  in  the  morning,  as  the  day  for 
confirming  both  your  candidates  and  those  who  shall  be  found  ready 


1850.]  CHURCH   OF  THE   ADVENT.  447 

among  tlie  parishioners  of  Trinity  Cliurch.  This  time,  being  not 
remote  from  tliat  mentioned  by  yourself,  will,  I  trust,  not  be  objec- 
tionable to  you. 

Reciprocating  your  kind  salutation  on  the  commencement  of 
another  year,  I  am  faithfully  yours, 

MANTON  EASTBURN. 
Rev.  Dr.  Croswell. 

III. 

Boston,  February  23,  1850. 

Right  reverend  and  dear  Sir  :  It  is  proper  to  apprise  you 
that,  in  compliance  with  your  directions,  I  shall  attend  at  Trinity 
Church  with  many  of  our  congregation  to-morrow  morning.  The 
service  at  our  church  will  be  omitted.  I  cannot  yet  inform  you  of 
the  precise  number  of  candidates  for  confirmation  ;  but  I  am  sorry 
to  say  that  I  find  it,  year  by  year,  seriously  diminished,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  course  which  you  have  felt  at  liberty  to  pursue,  in 
depriving  our  parish  of  the  benefits  of  the  Episcopal  visitation,  con- 
templated by  the  canon ;  and  I  should  be  wanting  in  a  sense  of 
what  is  due  to  my  own  rights  as  a  presbyter  under  your  jurisdiction, 
"  not  justly  liable  to  evil  report,  either  for  error  in  doctrine  or 
viciousness  of  life,"  as  well  as  what  is  due  to  those  of  the  laity  of 
our  parish,  constituted  an  integral  part  of  the  diocese,  entitled  to 
representation  in  the  convention,  and  to  the  enjoyment  of  the  same 
canonical  pi-ovision  and  privileges  as  any  other  parish  in  it,  if  I  did 
not  once  more  enter  my  solemn  protest  against  these  proceedings, 
as  1  have  dojie  against  similar  proceedings  in  fornjer  years. 
As  ever,  your  faithful  presbyter, 

W.  CROSWELL. 

The  Right  Rev.  Manton  Eastburn,  Bishop  of  Massachusetts.  '-(j  -q; 

On  this  new  arrangement  with  the  bishop  he  offered  no  special 
comment.  He  merely  mentions  it  in  his  letter  to  his  father,  January 
7 :  "  I  have  negotiated  with  the  bishop  for  a  confirmation  of  our 
candidates  at  Trinity  Church,  on  the  second  Sunday  in  Lent, 
February  24,  being  the  feast  of  St.  Matthew  the  apostle.  I  hope 
that  I  shall  have  a  considerable  number  to  bring,  and  such  as  shall 
be  accounted  worthy  when  tried  by  the  balance  of  the  sanctuary." 

While  he  was  diligently  pursuing  his  pastoral  duties,  and,  with  the 
assistance  of  Mr.  Prescott  and  Mr.  Hudson,  oftering  daily  prayers, 
morning  and  evening,  and  holding  three  services  on  Sundays,  he 
was  again  brought  into  severe  affliction.  January  14,  he  writes, 
"  The  last  week  has  been  a  sad  one.  We  have  been  in  the  midst 
of  '  deaths  oft.'  That  of  our  dear  friend  Dr.  E.  H.  Robbins  has 
overwhelmed  us  with  grief.  ...  So  unexpected  was  it,  that  I 
was  not  aware  until  the  last  day  that  he  was  sick  at  all.     I  was  at 


448  MEMOIR   OF  WILLLA.M   CROSW^ELL.  [1850. 

Brookline,  dining  with  Mr.  Clark,  when  a  messengei*  came  to 
summon  him  to  the  doctor's  bedside.  It  was  too  late  for  any 
communication.  But  there  is  every  reason  to  suppose  that  this 
event  did  not  take  him  unawares  or  find  him  unprepared.  He  had 
spoken  very  freely  with  his  child  and  friends  of  his  convictions  that 
he  should  not  live  long ;  and  the  tenor  of  his  daily  walk  was  his 
best  preparation.  He  had  a  warm  heart,  and  was  a  deviser  of  the 
most  liberal  things  —  a  pattern  of  disinterested  benevolence  —  truly 
devout,  without  the  slightest  pretence — full  of  good  deeds  —  a 
lover  of  hospitality,  and  a  lover  of  good  men.  His  funeral  was 
attended  by  a  concourse  on  Saturday,  many  of  whom  will  be 
ready  to  rise  up  and  declare  his  memory  blessed.  We  feel  every 
such  loss  here  to  be  indeed  irreparable.  A  chief  layman  of  Trinity 
Church  is  gone,  and  with  Iiini  is  buried  much  of  living  interest 
there.  Our  aged  and  saintly  friend  Miss  Coffin,  now  fourscore 
years  old  and  more,  bears  her  bereavement  with  wonderful  fortitude  ; 
and  indeed  the  whole  family  exhibit  a  composure  of  spirit  which 
nothing  but  divine  aid  can  impart.  I  dwell  upon  this  event,  for  I 
have  not  thought  of  much  else  since  it  occurred. 

'  But  welcome  fortitude  and  patient  cheer, 

And  frequent  sights  of  what  is  to  be  borne,  — 

Such  sights,  or  worse,  as  are  before  me  here,  — 

Not  without  hope,  we  suffer  and  we  mourn.'  " 

The  following  incidental  remark,  in  a  letter  of  January  28,  ex- 
hibits a  trait  in  his  ministerial  character  which  there  is  a  pleasure 
in  recording :  "  Both  P.  and  H.  give  me  any  amount  of  assistance 
in  the  public  duties ;  but  in  the  more  retired  and  unobserved  parts 
of  pastoral  functions,  —  visiting  the  poor,  for  instance,  — there  is  little 
relief  from  the  burden.  As  little,  however,  as  I  wish,  and  I  would 
be  content  with  less.  In  these  unseen  things,  after  all,  the  great 
strength  of  our  calling  lies." 

With  reference  to  the  approaching  confirmation,  February  19, 
he  says,  "  This  being  the  '  last  week  of  asking  '  before  confirmation, 
I  am  much  engrossed  with  my  candidates.  I  cannot  yet  tell  what 
the  exact  number  will  be ;  but  I  fear  that  I  shall  find  it  seriously 
diminished  in  consequence  of  the  bishop's  very  extraordinary  course. 
Meanwhile  there  is  nothing  like  stagnation  about  the 
interest  that  is  taken  in  the  approaching  service ;  and  as  we  propose 
to  omit  our  usual  morning  service,  and  to  proceed  in  a  body  to 
Trinity  Church,  I  think  that  the  venerable  edifice  is  likely  for  once 
to  be  full." 

That  he  was  not  disappointed  in  this  anticipation,  appears  from 
his  letter  of  the  25th  :   "  Yesterday  was  a  delightful  day  —  though 


1850.]  CHURCH   OF  THE   ADVENT.  449 

not  a  day  of  rest  precisely,  after  the  fatigues  of  the  week.  We 
rose  very  early  ;  had  the  ante-commuuion  office  for  St.  Matthias 
recited  at  nine  o'clock,  at  the  Church  of  the  Advent.  I  then  ad- 
dressed the  candidates  for  confirmation ;  and,  accompanied  hy  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Eaton  at  the  head  of  the  procession,  the  candidates,  with 
Rev.  Mv.  Prescott,  fell  in  in  close  order,  and  the  whole  body  went 
on  to  Trinity  Church.  There  our  numbers  occasioned  some  confu- 
sion ;  but  we  were  all  seated  at  last,  and  the  service  proceeded. 
Rev.  Mr.  Clark  read  morning  prayer.  [  sat  in  the  chancel  with 
the  bishop,  and  read  the  epistle  and  the  preface  to  the  confirmation 
office.  I  presented  twenty-three,  and  the  bishop  reported  nine  —  the 
whole  a  little  more  than  filling  the  chancel  rail.  .  .  .  The 
solemnity  was  impressive,  and  the  services  exciting.  I  felt  reason 
to  be  gratified  with  the  part  which  I  was  permitted  to  take  in  it,  and 
witii  the  character  and  qualifications  of  those  whom  I  presented. 
The  bishop  omitted  the  sermon,  and  made  a  short,  unexceptionable 
address.  Our  intercourse  was  courteous,  externally,  but  nothing 
more  than  official  exchange  of  conversation." 

March  4,  he  writes,  "  We  have  gone  one  week  deeper  into  the 
shadows  of  Lent,  and  the  interest  seems  to  be  increasing  as  we 
advance.  The  daily  service,  particularly  on  Wednesday  and  Friday, 
morning  and  evening,  is  well  attended."  He  also  speaks  of  the 
Sunday  congregations,  during  the  day  and  the  evening,  as  being 
very  large.  He  concludes,  "  My  health  does  not  seem  to  suffer 
from  any  thing  that  is  required  of  me  at  present." 

March  11 :  "It  is  bright  and  clear,  and  the  mind  sympathizes 
with  the  aspects  of  nature.  Day  unto  day,  as  usual,  uttereth  speech; 
one  differing  but  little  from  another.  I  have  scarcely  any  thing  to 
diversify  my  page  withal.  Yesterday  we  had  the  holy  communion, 
as  usual  on  mid-Lent  Simday,  and  I  preached  an  appropriate 
discourse  on  the  miracle  of  the  gospel,  from  the  text,  Shall  God 
prepare  a  table  in  the  loilderness  ?  Can  he  give  bread  aho  ?  Many 
of  our  candidates  recently  confirmed  came  to  the  altar.  Some,  by 
my  advice,  wait  till  Easter — when  Christ  our  Passover  is  sacrificed 
for  us,  and  which,  like  the  feast  of  the  Jews,  is  to  us  also  nigh  at 
hand."  He  seldom  adverts  in  his  letters  to  the  grievous  malady  in 
his  face;  but  under  this  same  date  he  mentions  his  intention  of  sub- 
mitting to  some  experiments  in  magnetism,  gratuitously  offered  to 
him  by  Dr.  Cross  :  "  To-day  I  commence  a  course  of  sittings  to 
Dr.  Cross,  from  which  I  have  reason  to  anticipate  some  benefit  to 
my  nerves."  The  advice  which  the  doctor  kindly  added  to  these 
experiments  evidently  gave  him  no  small  degree  of  encouragement. 
But  it  was  a  hope  which  he  never  realized.  No  treatment  seemed 
ever  to  arrest  the  progress  of  the  complaint,  or  afford  him  any 
material  or  permanent  relief  The  cause  lay  too  deep  for  the  reach 
of  human  skill. 

57 


450  MEMOIR   OF  \VILLIAM   CRO  SWELL.  [1850. 

Tuesday  before  Easter,  March  26,  after  ex]ilainino:  the  delay  of 
his  customary  letter,  he  says,  "  Our  occupations  arc  various,  though 
not  very  laborious,  considering  among  how  many  the  work  is  dis- 
tributed. Sermons,  however,  must  be  thought  out  and  put  on  paper; 
and  in  this  part  of  my  duty  I  cannot  expect  much  release  from 
labor.  We  had  a  lecture  every  evening  last  week  ;  but  my  own 
were  derived  from  a  pile  which  had  not  yet  been  in  requisition  in  my 
new  parish.  This  week  we  alternate,  morning  and  evening,  with 
sermons ;  and  the  return  of  this  affecting  season  always  suggests  a 
thousand  new  ones."  He  acknowledges  in  grateful  and  compli- 
mentary terms  the  aid  afforded  him  in  the  Sunday  evening  sermons 
by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Hudson,  while  dividing  the  other  services  with  his 
assistant,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Prescott.  But  he  nevertheless  feels  the 
great  responsibility  resting  upon  his  own  exertions.  "  Hence," 
he  adds,  "  I  am  obliged  to  apply  myself  this  way  just  about  as 
much  as  I  can  bear,  and  excuse  myself  to  my  correspondents  gen- 
erally." 

His  next  letter,  Wednesday  in  Easter  week,  speaks  thus  of  the 
great  festival,  and  of  some  of  the  pleasant  things  which  attended  it : 
"  Our  church  was  very  full,  and  a  larger  number  of  communicants 
than  at  any  time  before.  Offertory  large.  I  have  received  many 
Easter  gifts,  tokens  of  love  and  affection,  from  members  of  the 
parish ;  and  among  other  grateful  ones  was  a  purse  from  the 
ladies,  to  be  used  in  journeying  for  my  health.  They  are  desirous 
to  have  me  leave  at  once  ;  and  perhaps  I  shall  be  ready  to  start  at 
the  beginning  of  next  week.  The  only  direction  that  is  inviting  at 
this  season  is  a  southern  one  ;  and  I  thought  some  of  going  to 
Washington  or  Baltimore.     I  shall,  however,  come  home  first." 

The  following  acknowledgment  of  the  aforesaid  gift  is  here  re- 
corded with  much  pleasure  :  — 

Boston,  Easter  Tide,  1850. 

My  dear  Friend  :  I  am  anxious  to  let  you  know,  within  the 
octave  of  the  great  festival,  how  grateful  I  am  for  the  Easter  gift 
of  the  ladies  of  the  parish  ;  and  before  another  octave  I  hope  to 
plume  my  Easter  wings  for  a  flight.  I  will  not,  if  I  can  help  it, 
throw  any  obstacle  in  the  way  of  what  was  intended  to  minister  to 
my  health  and  improvement  ;  and  I  shall  go  the  more  sanguine  of 
benefit  from  the  conviction  that  I  carry  with  me  the  prayers  of  so 
many  to  '  avail  much'  in  securing  the  blessings  of  restored  health. 
If,  indeed,  it  be  expedient  for  us  that  I  go  away,  (and  of  this  I  do 
not  pretend  to  be  the  best  judge,)  and  I  may  lawfidly  use  His  high 
words,  I  hope  that  it  will  be  only  for  a  little  wiiile,  and  tbat  I  may 
return  with  strength  and  will  to  serve  God  more  faithfully  in  my 
ofiice,  to  the  glory  of  his  name  and  th  >  edification  of  his  cliurch. 

Remember  me  affectionately  to  each  of  the  subscribers  by  name  ; 


1850.]  CHURCH   OF  THE   ADVENT.  451 

and  desiring  the  still  further  continuance  of  their  good  offices  in  the 
charity  of  their  prayers, 

Believe  me,  ever  yours  in  Christ, 

W.  CROSWELL. 

Miss  Mart  Callahax,  for  herself  and  ladies. 

He  is  now  found  preparing  to  avail  himself  of  the  kindness  and 
liberality  of  his  friends,  and  forecasting  his  plans  for  his  anticipated 
journeyings.  These  are  not  very  definite.  He  says,  "  I  am  not 
sanguine  in  expectations  of  benefit  from  journeying  merely,  think- 
ing that  I  need  rest  rather  than  excitement,  however  amusing;  and 
medical  treatment  perhaps  more  than  either,  if  I  knew  what  to 
choose  between  old  and  new  modes,  hydropathy,  &c.  I  should  be 
disposed  to  go  to  Northampton  for  a  while,  but  that  the  season  is 
too  early,  and  the  country  very  uninviting."  He  had  been  through 
one  course  with  Dr.  Cross,  without  having  experienced  any  essential 
relief.  He  expresses  his  intention  of  persevering,  however,  and  of 
continuing  through  another  course  at  some  future  time.  He  pro- 
poses to  proceed  on  his  journey  immediately,  —  stopping  at  Hartford 
for  a  space,  and  enjoying  the  society  of  his  friends  there,  —  and 
then,  after  making  a  visit  at  New  Haven,  to  go  on  in  a  southern 
direction.  "  I  shall,  of  course,"  he  says,  "  be  glad  to  avail  myself  of 
Mr.  CuRTiss's  kindness.  New  York  has  always  ecclesiastical 
attractions  to  offer.  I  shall  probably  go  on  to  Newark,  Burlington, 
and  Philadelphia ;  but  perhaps  no  further  south,  at  present."  He 
suggests  the  possibility  of  going  also  to  Albany,  Troy,  and  even  to 
Auburn  ;   but  leaves  the   decision  to  be  governed  by  circumstances. 

During  his  journey,  he  found  but  little  time  or  opportunity  to 
keep  up  his  correspondence.  His  notes  are  very  hasty,  containing 
little  else  than  brief  sketches  of  his  daily  movements.  His  first  to 
his  father,  April  16,  is  from  New  York,  where  he  had  been  for  a 
day  or  two  enjoying  the  hospitalities  of  his  friend  Mr.  Curtiss,  and 
meeting  with  many  of  his  brethren,  particularly  the  Rev.  Mr.  Coxe, 
who  was  also  on  his  way  southerly.  The  next  is  dated  on  the  fol- 
lowing day  at  Philadelphia,  where  he  again  met  with  Mr.  Coxe  and 
his  travelling  companions.  The  next  is  from  Washington,  April 
18,  in  which  he  says,  "  I  wrote  you  from  Philadelphia.  Much  to 
my  gratification,  Mr.  Coxe  met  me  in  the  cars,  and  we  resumed  our 
iourney  together  yesterday.  I  did  not  perceive  any  change  for  the 
better  in  the  weather  as  we  came  this  way,  nor  any  more  promise 
of  vernal  scenery.  We  arrived  at  Baltimore  —  dined  —  visited  the 
Cathedral,  St.  Paul's,  and  the  Church  of  St.  Alphonsus  —  ascended  the 
monument  —  and  left  again  at  five  for  Washington.  We  had  an 
exhilarating  time,  —  though  the  country  is  forlorn  and  desolate 
enough,  —  and  the  dome  of  state  met  our  eager  eye  not  far 
from   seven.     Coxe  went  down  to  Alexandria,  and  I  to  take   my 


452  MEMOIR  OF  WILLIAM    CROSWELL.  [1850. 

ease  in  my  inn,  after  a  long  walk  to  reach  it.  ...  I  obtained 
an  introduction  to  the  floor  of  the  Senate  at  twelve.  Previous  to 
that  I  looked  at  every  thing  to  be  seen  about  the  Capitol,  witliin  and 
without,  and  sat  out  the  whole  debate  in  the  Senate  ;  though,  but 
for  the  name  of  it,  it  would  hardly  have  been  more  interesting  than  so 
much  time  in  our  own  hall  of  deputies.  I  heard  most  of  the  great  men 
of  the  nation  say  a  few  words.  Webster  had  been  engaged  in  an 
argument  in  the  supreme  court,  and  was  silent.  Clay  is  still  a  most 
persuasive  and  silver-tongued  speaker."  Writing  on  the  same  day 
to  a  friend  in  Boston,  he  says,  "  There  is  a  marked  transition  from 
all  that  we  are  used  to  see,  after  you  reach  Philadelphia.  The  style 
of  the  dwellings  and  the  pubhc  buildings  —  the  universal  use  of 
large,  white,  solid  shutters,  with  bolts  and  rings  to  the  lower 
windows,  as  if  it  were  a  garrison  town,  or  one  that  had  its  fear  of 
a  mob  before  its  eyes  perpetually  —  (as  it  may  well  have  reason  to 
in  this  city  of  brotherly  love)  —  the  airy  and  tasteful  style  of  the 
ladies'  dresses  on  the  promenade  —  the  monotonous  correspondence 
of  one  block  or  square  to  another  —  the  appearance  of  the  black 
servants  at  the  hotels  and  houses  generally,  are  among  the  things , 
that  make  you  feel  a  change.  .  .  .  We  were  much  struck  with 
the  very  frequent  '  bowing '  of  the  windows ;  that  is,  setting  the 
shutters  at  an  angle,  with  crape  or  ribands  at  the  rings,  to  indicate 
bereavement  in  the  household.  It  was  touching  to  see  it  at  all ;  but 
it  was  so  frequent  as  to  lead  one  to  suppose  that  there  had  been 
here  unusual  mortality.  So  much  of  ceremonial,  and  of  this  kind, 
among  a  people  who  do  not  wear  mourning,  and  who  cast  off"  all 
outward  symbol,  is  hardly  what  we  should  expect.  It  seems  to  bring 
to  mind,  and  perhaps  grew  out  of,  the  old  English  habit  which  led 
families  of  distinction  to  put  up  funeral  hatchments  on  the  walls  of 
their  houses  during  the  year  of  mourning.  ...  I  would  like  to 
have  all  good  Christians  visit  the  Church  of  St.  Mark,  just  completed 
in  Philadelphia,  with  a  school  building  in  the  same  enclosure,  looking 
like  a  religious  house.  .  .  .  We  spent  an  hour  or  two  in  Balti- 
more in  saying  our  prayers  in  St.  Paul's  Church,  Dr.  Wyatt's,  which 
cost,  as  the  guide  books  say,  one  hundred  and  twenty  thousand 
dollars,  and  makes  one  lament  that  it  had  not  been  more  judiciously 
laid  out.  It  is  perfectly  anomalous.  However,  it  is  much  in  advance 
of  the  Cathedral,  where  there  is  the  usual  disgusting  combination  of 
meanness  and  magnificence  —  dirt  and  divinity  —  which  characterize 
Popish  places  of  worship."  Again,  on  the  20th,  after  speaking  of 
a  pleasant  visit  to  some  old  friends,  he  adds,  "  Last  night  being  the 
levee  night  at  the  White  House,  we  waited  on  the  president,  and 
saw  him  and  all  the  men  of  mark."  He  is  now  ready  for  his  return  ; 
and  on  Monday,  April  22,  dates  from  Philadelphia:  "  I  arrived  here 
from  Baltimore  on  Saturday  evening.  Yesterday  was  a  beautiful 
day  ;  and  1  worshipped  at  St.  Mark's  all  day,  having  spent  the  inter- 


1850.]  cthtrch  of  the  ad^^ext.  453 

mission  witli  the  rector  and  a  few  clergy.  I  intended  to  have  gone 
on  to  Burhngton  this  afternoon  ;  but  our  purpose  changes  with  the 
changing  hour.  It  begins  to  rain  again,  and  the  weather  is  fit  for 
nothing  but  cars  and  steamboats  ;  and  I  purpose  to  push  on  to 
Newark  in  the  half  past  four  o'clock  train,  expecting  to  be  there 
about  eight.  St.  Mark's  day  I  expect  to  spend  in  New  York ;  and 
the  next  day  I  hope  to  return  with  a  glad  and  gratefid  lieart  to  the 
haven  where  I  would  be.  Philadelphia  is  a  delightful  city,  and  I 
have  no  wish  ever  to  go  south  of  it."  At  this  time  he  was  expecting 
his  wife  and  daughter  to  meet  him  at  New  Haven  ;  and  he  adds, 
"  In  this  way  we  shall  be  able  to  spend  Sunday  and  most  of  the 
following  week  together.  I  am  satisfied  that  short  journeys  are 
better  for  me  at  present  than  long,  and  rest  rather  than  excitement. 
I  do  not  think  it  well,  either,  fi)r  me  to  be  absent  any  considerable 
time  from  my  parish,  however  I  may  make  brief  excursions."  But 
he  was  disappointed  in  this  expectation.  His  wife  was  too  unwell 
to  undertake  the  journey.  After  returning,  therefore,  to  New 
Haven,  and  making  his  visit  alone,  he  proceeded  to  Boston,  where 
he  arrived  on  the  3d  of  May. 

"  Health  and  benediction  !  "  is  his  first  salutation  after  his  return 
to  his  post.  He  found  that  cares  and  duties  had  accumulated  in 
consequence  of  his  absence.  "But,  notwithstanding,"  he  says,  "I 
feel  as  if  I  had  received  decided  benefit  from  my  journey,  and  my 
nerves  are  much  steadier  than  they  have  been  for  some  time." 

But  whatever  benefit  may  have  been  derived  from  this  temporary 
relaxation  of  his  labors,  he  does  nut  appear  to  have  followed  up  his 
advantage  by  similar  excursions ;  for,  immediately  after  his  return, 
he  is  found  diligently  employed  in  his  customary  duties,  and  before 
the  expiration  of  the  month,  during  the  absence  of  his  assistant, 
as  appears  by  his  letter,  Monday,  May  27,  he  subjected  himself  to 
an  unusual  amount  of  labor :  "  I  was  willing  to  see  what  my 
strength  would  bear  last  week,  and  am  happy  to  find  it  equal,  thus 
far,  to  all  demands.  I  conducted  the  morning  and  evening  service 
unassisted,  besides  attending  to  the  other  duties,  which  were  not  in- 
considerable, and  preacbing  on  Friday  evening.  Yesterday  (Trin- 
ity Sunday)  we  were  disappointed  by  the  setting  in  of  the  storm, 
which  diminished  the  numbers  in  attendance.  The  congregation 
was  very  respectable,  notwithstanding,  and  I  administered  the  com- 
munion to  eighty  or  more.  I  was  at  the  Sunday  school  in  the 
morning,  and  entirely  alone  in  all  the  services.  In  the  afternoon,  I 
read  service,  preached,  and  attended  to  the  singing  of  tlie  children. 
1  am  remarkably  well  to-day.  I  think  I  am  gradually  gaining  on 
my  complaint,  and  hope  that  I  shall  be  able,  by  the  end  of  my 
present  engagement,  to  dispense  with  any  assistance,  except  from 
time  to  time,  when  I  especially  need  it.  ...  I  »''iy  niake  a 
brief  visit  to  Albany.     But  I  shall  be    absent    as   i'ew  Sundays   as 


4-54  MEMOm  OF  WILLIAM   CKOSWELL.  [:..i.. 

possible,  and  I  shall  not  allow  myself  to  be  absent  for  a  long  time 
at  once." 

Sunday  evening,  June  2,  he  writes,  "I  wrote  you,  bright  and 
early,  last  Monday  morning,  in  a  great  flow  of  spirits,  having  to 
congratulate  myself  on  having  gone  on  thus  far  without  any  assist- 
ance, or  feeling  the  want  of  any.  .  .  .  This  week  also  1  have 
gone  on  alone,  and  much  to  my  satisfaction.  On  Wednesday,  1 
was  invited  to  officiate  as  chaplain  to  the  Medical  Society  dinner ; 
and,  being  called  out  by  the  president,  made  a  short  speech."  This 
address  was  extempore,  and  he  appears  to  have  been  "  quite  as 
much  surprised  as  gratified  "  at  his  success.  "  But,"  he  says,  "  I 
felt  it  due  to  make  a  special  effort  for  the  doctors  of  our  parish ; 
and,  as  the  old  preacliers  say,  I  had  great  freedom  given  me,  nor 
was  in  any  wise  straitened."  There  was  no  report  of  this  speech; 
but  the  following  sketch  is  found,  in  his  own  handwriting,  of  so 
much  of  it  as  his  memory  could  recall :  "  I  feel  that  I  am  ventur- 
ing out  of  my  element.  But  I  cannot  forbear  taking  this  occasion 
to  make  such  poor  acknowledgments  as  I  can  pay,  in  behalf  of  the 
clergy,  for  all  that  we  owe  to  the  medical  faculty.  Sir,  I  do  not 
allude  to  personal  or  professional  attentions  to  me  and  mine  for  the 
last  twenty  years  without  fee  or  reward,  though  I  might  speak  feel- 
ingly on  that  score.  Nor  do  I  allude  to  what  I  have  seen  and  known 
of  their  devotion  and  self-sacrifice,  by  niglit  and  by  day,  in  the 
obscure  chambers  of  the  sick  poor,  or  in  the  blessed  charity  of  our 
hospitals.  But  it  is  with  reference  to  that  reproach  of  irreligion 
with  which  the  profession  has  been  sometimes  branded,  and  which 
made  it  a  common  proverb  in  Digby's  time  ;  though,  as  he  says  in  a 
parenthesis,  (among  those  of  tlie  unlearned  sort,)  '  Ubi  tres  medici, 
duo  athei '  —  Wherever  there  are  three  physicians,  two  are  atheists. 
However  it  might  have  been  in  other  times  or  other  countries, 
among  us,  at  least,  the  imputation  is  entirely  unfounded.  Taught 
from  my  childhood  to  honor  and  revere  the  medical  faculty, — 
represented  before  my  eyes  in  the  person  of  more  than  one  aged 
relative,  —  I  have  lived  to  feel  that  a  special  tribute  of  gratitude  is 
due  for  their  stand,  as  a  body,  on  the  side  of  religion,  their  promi)t 
and  generous  efficiency  in  strengthening  the  hands  of  their  clergy, 
and  tlieir  rallying  to  the  support  of  all  divine  institutions.  Sir,  1 
speak  from  heartfelt  experience,  and  I  could  give  many  illustrations. 
To  come  nearer  home,  in  the  humble  parish  with  which  I  am  con- 
nected, there  were  at  the  outset  several  physicians.  The  enterprise 
may,  indeed,  be  said  to  have  originated  with  them ;  and  they  have 
been,  through  all,  the  pillars  of  the  society.  Some  years  since,  we 
ventured  in  faith  to  honor  God  in  restoring  his  daily  worship,  morn- 
ing and  evening,  in  his  sanctuary.  Our  physicians  were  most  for- 
ward in  this  good  work ;  and  there  has  seldom  been  an  occasion, 
from  that  day  to  this,  that  some  of  them  have  not  been  in  attend- 


1850.]  CHURCH   OF  THE  ADVENT.  455 

ance,  and  those  often  in  the  fullest  practice.  On  the  Lord's  day, 
of  course,  all  are  habitually  in  their  places,  and  among  oui-  most 
interested  and  devoted  members.  Nor  is  this  a  peculiar  case.  The 
same  state  of  things  is  observable,  only  more  conspicuously,  in  the 
larger  parishes  of  the  city  with  whicli  I  am  most  familiar.  xVnd  I 
rejoice  to  see  around  us  distinguished  and  eminent  members  of  this 
body  whom  I  have  long  been  happy  to  recognize  as  also  men 
famous  in  those  congregations  —  men  of  renown,  Christian  as 
well  as  scientific  renown.  And  so  it  is,  I  doubt  not,  generally 
through  our  whole  commonwealth.  So  indeed  it  should  be,  for  so 
it  was  in  the  very  beginning.  One  of  the  four  pillars  in  the  Chris- 
tian temple  was  Luke,  the  beloved  physician.  As  the  bosom  friend 
and  counsellor  of  the  great  apostle  in  all  the  perils  of  his  journey, 
in  the  tumult  at  Jerusalem,  in  his  bonds,  in  his  shipwreck,  in  his 
imprisonment,  and  in  his  last  fiery  trial,  when  no  man  stood  by  him, 
but  all  men  forsook  him,  Luke,  and  Luke  only,  was  with  him. 
Such  was  the  glorious  distinction  of  Luke,  the  beloved  physician  — 
the  model  doctor  for  all  generations.  If  it  did  not  seem  to  smell 
too  strongly  of  the  cloth,  I  might  be  tempted  to  show  what  pains  the 
Church  had  taken,  for  fourteen  hundred  years  at  least,  to  honor  and 
embalm  his  memory,  to  keep  it  alive  and  green,  in  her  solemn 
annual  commemorations  on  the  18th  day  of  October,  to  invite  every 
Christian  physician  to  unite  with  us  on  that  day  in  keeping  up  its 
edifying  observance,  and  to  press  his  character  now  upon  the  imita- 
tion of  those  who,  with  the  treasures  of  his  cultivated  mind,  have 
the  same  professional  advantages  for  distinguishing  between  the 
natural  and  supernatural,  in  those  mighty  works  of  wonder  and  of 
love  which  are  recorded  by  St.  Luke  as  the  foundation  of  man's 
belief  in  all  ages." 

In  the  same  letter,  he  writes,  "  The  next  day,  Thursday,  I  offi- 
ciated at  the  church,  at  the  funeral  of  Mr.  Pelby,  the  manager  of 
the  National  Theatre.  Never  was  there  such  a  concourse  as  as- 
sembled on  that  occasion,  and  every  thing  was  done  decently  and 
in  order.  The  service  was  very  impressive ;  and  the  profession 
seemed  to  be,  many  of  them,  much  affected.  I  have  received 
many  tokens  of  their  grateful  appreciation  of  my  ministrations. 
On  Friday  of  both  weeks  I  have  preached  a  sermon  at 
the  evening  service ;  have  preached  on  both  Sundays,  and  admin- 
istered tlie  Holy  Communion  on  both  days  to  unusual  numbers. 
To-day,  Rev.  Dv.  Eaton  assisted  me  in  distributing  the  elements. 
I  have  tested  my  strength,  and  find  it  equal  to  all  that  has  been 
required  of  it.  1  indulge  the  expectation,  that  at  the  end  of  this 
term  I  shall  be  able  to  dispense  with  any  assistance." 

Having  anticipated  some  enjoyment  in  seeing  Gliddon's  mummy 
unrolled,  he  tells  of  his  disappointment  in  these  terms,  June  7: 
"  Gliddon  has  made  the  most  of  his  show.     It  turns  out  that  the 


456  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1850. 

mummy  is  not  a  mammy,  after  all.  The  young  priestess  is  a  man 
buried  by  accident  in  the  wrong  box,  which  mars  the  sentiment  of 
the  thing,  much  as  a  lubberly  boy  in  women's  clothes.  It  was  an 
interesting  spectacle,  notwithstanding." 

In  a  letter  of  .Tune  14,  he  speaks  of  taking,  at  his  earliest  conven- 
ience, an  excursion  to  Albany,  Troy,  and  Auburn.  And  in  one  or 
two  subsequent  letters,  he  expresses  a  hope,  rather  than  any  confi- 
dent expectation,  of  accomplishing  his  wishes.  He  was  unable,  on 
account  of  his  absorbing  cares,  to  attend  the  annual  commencement 
of  Trinity  College,  and  was  often  obliged  to  apologize  for  the  brev- 
ity of  his  weekly  communications  to  his  father.  August  5,  he  says, 
"  I  have  only  time  for  hints.  I  have  been  quite  alone  this  last 
week,  making,  yesterday,  the  eleventh  Sunday  since  my  assistant 
left  me.  Whit  Sunday  was  his  last  appearance.  .  .  .  Apart 
from  duty  to  the  Church,  I  must  indulge  a  little  in  idleness,  and 
refrain  even  from  good  words,  though  it  were  pain  and  grief  to 
me."  But,  having  subsequently  made  arrangements  for  a  brief 
absence  from  his  parish,  he  left  on  Monday,  September  2,  with  his 
wife  and  daughter,  and  having  parted  with  them  at  Springfield, 
where  they  took  the  cars  for  New  Haven,  he  proceeded  to  Albany. 
He  also  visited  Troy  and  Utica,  but  went  no  farther  west,  on  ac- 
count of  the  limited  time  allowed  for  his  absence.  He  returned  by 
the  way  of  New  Haven,  where  he  again  joined  his  wife  and  child, 
and  arrived  at  Boston  on  Saturday,  September  14,  after  an  absence 
of  only  thirteen  days,  during  which  he  had  met  a  great  number  of 
his  friends,  and  passed  through  many  interesting  and  exciting  scenes. 
At  Albany,  on  the  3d,  he  was  present  at  the  consecration  of  the 
Church  of  the  Holy  Innocents  by  Bishop  Whittinghaivi.  While 
at  Utica,  he  visited  Trenton  Falls,  "  and  had,"  he  says,  "  a  fine 
ramble  about  the  ravines  of  the  falls,  which  were  seen  to  the  best 
possible  advantage  from  being  swollen  into  a  torrent  of  turbulent 
power  by  the  late  rain."  On  Sunday,  the  8th,  he  attended  the  ser- 
vices of  the  Chapel  of  the  Holy  Cross,  at  Troy  ;  and  again,  on 
Tuesday,  he  was  present,  with  some  twenty  clergymen,  at  the  anni- 
versary of  the  Bible  and  Prayer  Book  Society,  in  the  same  church. 
But  notwithstanding  the  fatigue  and  excitement  of  this  journey,  he 
returned  to  his  post,  and  again  entered  upon  his  duties  on  Sunday, 
the  15th,  and  not  only  officiated  all  day  without  assistance,  but  at 
evening,  when  all  was  over,  found  time  to  address  a  short  letter  to 
his  father.  "  I  really  feel,"  he  says,  "  very  nuich  benefited  by  my 
journey  and  the  return  of  the  cool  weather;  and  the  duties  of  the 
day,  which  I  have  conducted  alone,  have  set  very  lightly  upon  me. 
All  things  have  gone  on  as  T  could  most  have  desired  in  my  absence, 
and  all  seem  glad  of  my  return." 

From  this  time  to  the  close  of  the  year  his  letters  are  chiefly  con- 
fined to  private  and  domestic  matters,  and  few  incidents  remain  to 


1850.]  CHURCH  OF  THE  ADVENT.  457 

be  recorded.  In  October,  having  been  invited  to  attend  tlie  nup- 
tials of  a  daughter  of  an  early  friend  and  classmate,  he  ])assed  a 
day  or  two  at  New  Haven,  and  on  his  return  he  persuaded  his 
father  to  accompany  him  to  Boston.  This  visit,  though  short,  in- 
cluding the  Feast  of  St.  Luke  and  one  Sunday,  was  nevertheless 
made  an  occasion  of  mutual  gratification  ;  more  especially  as  his 
father  was  enabled,  by  taking  nearly  the  whole  burden  of  the  ser- 
vices, to  afford  him,  for  the  time  being,  the  relief  which  he  very  much 
needed.  Nor  did  he  forget,  at  the  earliest  opportunity,  to  acknowl- 
edge the  obligation.  Writing  to  his  father  immediately  after  this 
exchange  of  visits,  he  says,  "  It  seems  to  be  the  universal  impres- 
sion, that  it  will  be  your  duty  to  make  up  for  our  lack  of  episcopal 
visitations  by  coming  on  quarterly,  or  semiannually  at  least,,  and 
doing  for  us  what  our  bishop  will  hardly  be  able  to  do  for  any  par- 
ish. .  .  .  Your  appearances  will  make  red-letter  days  in  the 
calendar,  to  whose  returns  we  shall  look  forward  with  increasing 
interest  as  years  wear  on." 

During  the  autumn,  the  Rev.  Samuel  Farmar  Jarvis,  D.  D.,  spent 
a  few  weeks  in  Boston,  for  the  purpose  of  superintending  the  publica- 
tion of  the  first  volume  of  his  Ecclesiastical  History  —  the  great  work 
on  which  he  had  bestowed  many  years  of  labor.  At  this  time  his 
health  was  much  impaired,  and  his  eyesight  had  become  so  defec- 
tive, that  his  friends  began  to  entertain  fears  that  he  might  not 
be  spared  to  see  even  this  first  volume  through  the  press.  Under 
judicious  medical  treatment,  however,  he  so  far  recovered  as  to  be 
able  to  attend  to  the  business  which  called  him  to  Boston,  and  to 
join  in  the  daily  worship,  and  occasionally  to  preach  in  the  Church 
of  the  Advent.  In  several  letters  the  rector  speaks  of  him  in 
terms  of  great  veneration  and  aftection.  He  mentions  an  extem- 
pore discourse  on  Advent  Sunday  as  "  a  solemn  and  impressive  ser- 
mon," Again,  of  his  sermon  on  the  following  Sunday,  he  says, 
Dr.  Jarvis  gave  us  an  impressive  and  interesting  lecture  on  one 
of  the  prophecies  of  Isaiah  ;  and  though  much  broken,  his  power  is 
still  considerable,  and  he  was  listened  to  with  marked  attention.  I 
think  that  the  doctor  has  enjoyed  his  visit  here  very  greatly;  and  the 
Church  of  the  Advent  has  been  the  channel  through  which  much 
of  this  enjoyment  has  come."  Finally,  writing  on  the  15th,  he  says, 
"  Dr.  Jarvis  left  on  Friday,  after  making  a  very  pleasant  visit,  both 
to  us  and  himself.  He  purposes  to  go  on  to  Buffalo  about  the  20th, 
to  spend  Christmas  with  Gen.  Porter  at  Niagara  Falls."  In  con- 
nection with  this  visit,  the  doctor  had  engaged,  should  his  health 
permit,  to  deliver  a  lecture  before  the  Young  Men's  Institute  at 
Buffalo.  But  in  all  these  anticipations  he  was  disappointed  by  an 
afflictive  stroke  of  Providence.  He  had  proceeded  no  farther  than 
Troy,  before  he  became  dangerously  ill,  and  was  compelled  to 
return  to  his  home  in  Middletown,  where,  after  a  lingering  and 
58 


4o?  MEMOIR   OF   WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1851. 

distressing  sickness,  he  expired  in  the  latter  part  of  the  ensuing 
March. 

The  close  of  this  year  was  also  marked  by  another  afflictive  dis- 
pensation, in  the  death  of  the  Rev.  Isaac  Boyle,  D.  D.  He  was  a 
clergyman  of  great  personal  worth,  and  possessed  fine  talents  and 
extensive  attainments.  But  in  consequence  of  extreme  deafness  and 
other  infirmities,  he  had  been  for  some  years  disqualified  for  the  gen- 
eral performance  of  the  public  duties  of  his  calling.  In  social  inter- 
course, however,  he  was  among  the  most  interesting  of  men  —  bril- 
liant in  wit,  and  rich  in  all  the  varied  gifts  of  conversation.  The  rector 
of  the  Advent  had  been  much  in  his  company,  and  always  treated  him 
with  the  utmost  respect  and  veneration.  He  relates  the  circumstances 
of  his  sickness  and  death  with  much  feeling.  December  2  :  "I  was 
at  Dr.  Boyle's  this  morning,  and  found  him  dying  and  unconscious. 
I  read  the  commendatory  prayer.  He  was  attacked  on  Friday 
very  violently  with  convulsions,  and  is  dropping  off  in  a  fatal  stu- 
por, from  which  he  will  never  be  roused  again  in  tliis  world.  His 
end,  happily,  will  be  that  of  the  righteous."  November  9 :  "  Dr. 
Boyle  died  last  week,  and  was  buried  from  Trinity  Church  on  Thurs- 
day last.  I  loved  him  dearly,  and  mourn  his  loss  very  sincerely  — 
to  tlie  Church,  not  less  than  to  myself.  What  stores  of  accumu- 
lated learning  and  wisdom  seem  to  be  lost  with  him,  at  least,  to 
sight !  though  I  cannot  believe  that  such  treasures  are  for  this  life 
only." 


1851. 

The  reader  may  judge  of  the  emotions  of  the  biograplier  on 
opening  the  record  of  this  eventful  year  —  the  year  that  brouglit  to 
a  sudden  termination  the  labors  of  this  faithful  and  devoted  servant 
of  Christ.  He  was  now  advancing  rapidly  to  his  rest  and  to  his 
reward.  Of  this  he  was  happily  entirely  unconscious.  Notwith- 
standing the  plain  indications  of  an  increase  of  his  infirmities,  he 
entered  upon  the  duties  of  the  year  with  all  his  accustomed  zeal  and 
ardor,  without  abating  one  jot  or  tittle  of  his  manifold  labors.  In 
a  note,  January  3,  1851,  to  some  ladies  of  his  parish,  acknowl- 
edging the  gift  of  a  beautiful  inkstand,  he  says,  "  In  my  own  case, 
I  dare  only  hope  that  this  foiuitain  will  never  lend  its  aid  to  frame 
one  sentence,  which,  dying,  I  would  wish  to  blot  ;  and  that  its  last 
office,  like  this  its  first,  may  be  to  record  the  Christian  affection  that 
binds  me  to  those  whom  I  have  ever  found  in  all  trials  '  kind  hearts 
and  true.' "  In  his  first  letter  to  his  father,  dated  on  Sunday 
evening,  .lanuary  5,  he  says,  "  I  do  not  write  because  I  have  time  to 


1851.]  CHURCH  OF  THE   ADVENT.  4J3 

say  mucli,  but  to  keep  up  a  good  liabit,  in  which  I  hope  to  perse- 
vere through  the  coming  year,  of  securing  a  few  moments  on  Sunday 
evening  for  this  duty.  May  it  be  an  acceptable  year  of  the  Lord 
to  us  all.  .  .  .  The  last  week  has  been  a  busy  one.  I  had  to 
encroach  on  Saturday  night  more  than  my  wont  to  get  ready  for 
to-day.  I  prepared  myself  to  preach  both  parts  of  the  day,  aid 
have  had  the  whole  service  and  a  large  communion.  To-morrow, 
being  the  feast  of  the  Epiphany,  the  same  interesting  duty  will  be 
repeated.  I  feel  remarkably  well  this  evening,  and  so  indeed  are 
we  all.  It  is  not  expedient,  however,  to  use  the  quill  much  ;  and 
you  will,  I  am  sure,  take  the  will  for  the  deed."  Again,  on  the 
12th,  in  a  short  note  written  between  the  afternoon  and  evening 
services,  he  says,  "  The  day  has  been  fine  for  the  season.  I  have 
been  unassisted,  but  feel  quite  fresh  and  vigorous  for  the  balance. 
We  open  to-night,  for  the  first  time  this  season."  On  this  occasion, 
however,  he  had  the  aid  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Edson,  in  the  sermon,  of 
which  he  speaks  in  the  highest  terms  of  gratification.  On  the  fol- 
lowing Sunday,  he  was  again  alone  .and  unassisted  during  the  day; 
but  he  had  the  benefit  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Francis  Vinton's  services 
in  tiie  evening,  who  preached,  by  a])pointment,  an  impressive  ser- 
mon in  behalf  of  the  Seamen's  Mission  ;  and  before  the  next  ensu- 
ing Sunday,  his  father  came  to  his  relief.  This  visit  included  the 
Feast  of  the  Conversion  of  St.  Paul,  the  25th,  and  the  third  Sunday 
after  the  Epiphany,  the  26th.  On  both  of  these  occasions,  as  well 
as  in  the  daily  service,  his  father  bore  a  principal  part  —  delivering 
a  short  address  on  St.  Paul's  day,  and  preaching  three  sermons  on 
Sunday.  One  or  two  incidents  connected  with  this  visit,  of  which 
he  had  previously  apprised  his  father,  gave  peculiar  interest  to  the 
occasion.  Of  the  first,  he  writes  in  this  manner  :  "  Mr. ex- 
pects to  have  his  child  baptized  ;  and  as  his  name  is  to  be  '  Harry,' 
he  would  be  pleased,  if  it  were  not  presuming,  to  have  you  stand  in 
his  behalf.  It  will  be  the  first  of  the  name  that  I  have  ever  bap- 
tized." In  relation  to  the  other,  he  mentions  an  invitation  to  "  an 
evening  parish  party  of  gentlemen  "  at  the  house  of  one  of  the  leading 
members  of  his  parish,  and  adds,  "  Understand,  that  this  is  simply  an 
evening  assemblage  of  those  exclusively  who  are  connected  with 
our  parish,  to  afford  them  an  opportunity  of  seeing  each  other 
under  pleasant  circumstances  and  free  from  all  constraint,  and  of 
giving  all  an  opportunity  of  seeing  you.  The  effect  of  such  a  gath- 
ering occasionally  is,  doubtless,  very  happy ;  and  in  the  present 
posture  of  our  afl^airs,  may  be  peculiarly  salutary."  In  both  cases, 
these  invitations  were  complied  with,  and  were  made  the  occasion 
of  much  niutual  enjoyment ;  and  the  hope  was  expressed,  that  such 
visits  might  be  often  repeated  in  the  course  of  the  year.  But  it  did 
not  please  a  wise  Providence  so  to  order.  This  was  the  last  visit 
that  he  was  permitted  to  receive  from  his  father  during  his  life. 


460  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM    CROSWELL.  [185L 

On  the  first  Sunday  in  February  lie  bad  the  assistance  of  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Hale,  president  of  Geneva  College,  in  the  sermon  for 
the  afternoon,  and  the  Rev.  Mr  Stickney  in  the  evening.  And  on 
the  following  Sunday  afternoon  be  was  favored  with  a  sermon  from 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Tremlett,  from  the  British  provinces,  who  had  come 
to  Boston  with  the  expectation  of  preaching  in  the  newly-formed 
parish  of  St.  Botolph,  but  had  been  peremptorily  forbidden  by  the 
bishop,  on  the  ground  of  some  technical  informality.  Thus,  by  a 
kind  Providence,  did  he  obtain  from  his  brethren,  from  different 
quarters,  much  seasonable  relief.  He  was  also  kindly  favored,  es- 
pecially by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Stickney,  in  the  daily  service.  But  still 
the  constant  recurrence  of  these  services,  with,  a  good  amount  of 
pastoral  duty,  undoubtedly  overtasked  his  powers.  Hence  it  was 
deemed  expedient,  if  not  absolutely  necessary,  to  seek  occasional 
relaxation  in  short  excursions  among  his  friends  abroad.  Accord- 
ingly, availing  himself  of  the  companionship  of  a  friend,  and  leav- 
ing the  parish  in  charge  of  his  brother  Stickney,  he  absented 
himself  for  a  few  days,  proceeding  from  Boston  to. Hartford  on 
Tuesday,  the  18th,  thence  to  New  Haven  on  the  19th,  and  to  New 
York  on  Saturday,  the  22d.  Here  he  spent  the  Sunday ;  returned 
to  New  Haven  on  Monday,  and  to  Boston  on  Tuesday,  the  •24th  — 
thus,  in  the  compass  of  a  single  week,  visiting  many  dear  friends, 
and  drawing  from  his  social  intercourse  with  his  family  and  bretii- 
ren  a  large  amount  of  enjoyment.  From  his  own  representation, 
it  is  to  be  presumed  that  he  also  derived  much  benefit  from  the 
excursion.  Writing  on  the  Sunday  evening  after  his  return,  March 
2,  he  says,  "  I  found  myself  very  fresh  and  vigorous  after  my  ride." 
After  speaking  of  having  rented  a  larger  and  better  house  than  the 
one  in  which  the  family  had  hitherto  resided,  and  of  the  laborious 
preparations  for  removing,  he  adds,  "  The  parish  continues  to  be 
healthy  and  prosperous  ;  and  I  hope  to  have  a  large  class  of  can- 
didates for  confirmation.  To-day  I  have  been  preaching  twice,  in 
preparation  for  Lent.  I  had  a  little  assistance  in  the  morning  from 
Rev.  Dr.  Eaton  and  Rev.  Mr.  Monroe  ;  but  this  afternoon  I  was 
quite  alone,  administering  holy  baptism,  over  and  above  the  usual 
exercises.  Our  church  was  very  full  this  morning,  and  the  largest 
number  at  communion  that  had  ever  attended  at  once."  Hi  snext 
letter,  first  Sunday  evening  in  Lent,  is  somewhat  taken  up  with  an 
account  of  his  moving,  w  hich,  he  says,  tliey  all  consider  as  a  "  very 
suitable  occupation  for  the  season — a  penitential  discipUne."  But 
he  anticipates  a  great  improvement  in  their  household  enjoyments. 
"The  daylight,"  he  says,  "is  just  beginning  to  shut  in;  but  before 
it  is  quite  gone,  I  must  try  to  find  time  to  jot  down  the  engage- 
ments of  the  week.  All  the  time  not  otherwise  occupied  in  pasto- 
ral duty  has  been  given  to  this  moving  task  —  most  profitable  to 
keep  one  in  mind  that  we  are  dwelling   in  tents,  as   strangers  and 


1851.]  CHURCH   OF   THE   ADVENT.  461 

pilgrims,  looking,  I  trust,  for  the  building  of  God,  the  house  not 
made  with  hands,  among  the  many  mansions  opened  for  us  by  our 
Savior.  We  had  two  solemn  services  on  Asli  Wednesday.  I  liad  a 
little  assistance  at  the  second  from  Rev.  Mr.  Lambert,  but  did  all 
the  preaching.  .  .  .  Mrs.  Grosvenor  had  kept  me  apprised, 
down  to  Thursday  or  Friday,  of  poor  Dr.  Jarvis's  condition.  I 
am  expecting  every  mail  to  hear  that  he  has  fallen  asleep.  Good 
old  man  !  his  cup  has  been  very  full  of  sorrow  and  sore  trouble  ; 
but  he  has  drank  it  to  the  dregs,  like  a  Christian.  He  will  enter 
paradise,  I  firmly  believe,  as  a  vessel  fitted,  in  the  furnace  of  afflic- 
tion, for  the  Master's  use,  to  everlasting  honor,  while  the  Church  on 
earth  will  long  have  reason  to  mourn  his  loss.  The  death  of  Dr. 
Ogilby  deprives  us  of  another  choice  treasure,  to  be  added  to  what 
was  before  laid  up  in  heaven."  His  next  letter  is  dated  from  31 
Green  Street,  March  17,  in  which  he  says,  "  The  discouraging  work 
of  moving  was  safely  accompHshed  last  week,  and  we  are  in  our 
new  house,  and  chaos  is  gradually  giving  place  to  the  genius  of 
(jrder  ;  and  now  that  we  are  fairly  able  to  judge  of  what  the  ad- 
vantages of  the  change  really  are,  we  can  hardly  overestimate 
them."  He  closes  this  letter  with  an  urgent  appeal  to  his  parents 
to  come  and  visit  him  :  "And  now,  when  the  time  of  the  singing 
birds  shall  have  come,  and  these  rough  winds  softened  down  to  a 
vernal  sweetness,  and  the  St.  Michael's  pear  tree,"  (standing  in  his 
yard,)  "  which  for  fifty  years  has  put  forth  its  green  leaves,  un- 
changed amid  all  the  changes  round  it,  and  as  if  it  were  still  in  the 
midst  of  the  garden,  shall  have  blossomed  once  more,  we  shall  hope 
that  mother  and  you  will  indulge  us  in  one  more  visit  together 
ere  life's  stage  is  left." 

It  is  imnecessary  to  pursue  the  details  of  his  daily  and  weekly 
labors,  as  given  in  his  correspondence  and  journal.  He  frequently 
acknowledges  the  aid  of  his  visiting  brethren  ;  and  he  generally 
speaks  in  terms  of  encouragement  of  the  continuance  of  the  health 
of  himself,  as  well  as  the  family.  One  or  two  short  passages  from 
his  letter  of  March  24  will  serve  to  show  how  readily  his  sympa- 
thies were  awakened  by  every  passing  case  of  mortality  or  distress  : 
"  I  am  expecting  to  hear  by  every  mail  that  Dr.  Jarvis  has  fallen 
asleep.  The  last  accounts  were  very  discouraging.  Death  has 
lieen  very  busy  this  last  year  among  our  ranks ;  and  some  of  his 
victims  have  been  '  bright  and  shining  marks.'  I  have  just  been  to 
see  the  books,  pictures,  and  paintings  which  have  been  sent  home 
from  the  3Iediterr{yiean,  the  relics  of  our  old  and  dear  friend 
Searle.  It  is  a  melancholy  errand,  and  almost  makes  me  sick." 
Again,  in  reference  to  the  case  of  apparent  decline  in  the  health  of 
a  young  man,  the  son  of  a  very  particular  friend,  who  had  just  en- 
tered upon  the  business  of  life,  with  every  reasonable  prospect  of 
prosperity,   happiness,  and  usefulness,  he  says,    "  His  friends  may 


462  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROS^VELL.  [1851. 

well  be  anxious,  lest  he  should  wither  away  under  it.  How  often, 
alas  !  in  all  schemes  of  human  felicity,  all  is  destroyed  by  a  worm 
in  the  bud." 

Before  the  date  of  another  letter,  (Mid-Lent,  Sunday  evening,) 
he  had  been  apprised  of  the  death  of  Dr.  Jarvis,  and  had  been 
invited  to  attend  his  funeral.  "  This,"  he  says,  "  I  should  have 
been  glad  to  do,  if  a  day  had  intervened  before  Sunday  ;  but  I 
feared  the  effect  of  the  excitement  and  exhaustion  ;  and  I  needed 
to  be  the  stronger,  as  the  Holy  Communion  was  celebrated,  as 
usual,  on  this  day,  at  our  church,  and  I  had  no  reason  to  expect 
assistance.  Meanwhile,  I  did  such  honor  as  my  means  would  ad- 
mit to  the  doctor's  memory,  in  my  sermon  this  morning,  much  to 
the  satisfaction  of  a  large  congregation."  In  this  letter,  he  again 
recurs  to  the  case  of  Rev.  Mr.  Searle  :  "  I  feel  the  weight  of 
those  bereavements  the  more,  since  the  Rev.  Mr.  Searle's  sermons, 
letters,  and  private  papers  were  quite  unexpectedly  put  at  my  dis- 
posal by  his  friends  this  last  week."  Some  two  weeks  had  elapsed 
since  his  effects  had  been  received  from  the  Mediterranean  ;  and  he 
concludes,  if  they  should  not  be  claimed  by  his  friends,  he  should 
call  in  the  aid  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Lambert,  Mr.  Searle's  successor  in 
the  Navy  Yard  ;  and  after  selecting  such  as  they  should  think  meet 
to  preserve,  should  commit  the  rest  to  the  flames. 

Writing  on  Sunday  evening,  April  6,  he  says,  "  Dr.  Eaton,  who 
was  with  me,  was  quite  overcome  with  faintness,  and  obliged  to 
leave  at  the  close  of  the  morning  service,  and  before  the  ante- 
communion.  I  was  quite  startled,  at  the  moment  —  the  number  of 
sudden  deaths  of  late  having  been  very  alarming.  But  I  was  quite 
i-elieved  to  hear  that  it  was  but  temporary." 

Wednesday  before  Easter,  April  16.  "  We  had  three  services 
on  Palm  Sunday,  of  which  I  bore  the  unassisted  burden  ;  and  after 
all  was  over,  was  in  conference  with  Mr.  John  P.  Tarbell,  about 
bearing  him  company,  in  an  absence  of  sixty  days,  to  Havre  and 
the  Rhine  — the  voyage  being  necessary,  in  his  own  case,  to  recruit 
his  health ;  and  the  time  of  sailing  being  fixed  for  Easter  Tuesday." 
On  consulting  his  medical  and  other  friends,  he  concluded  to  decUno 
this  kind  proposal.  "  A  voyage,"  he  says,  "  in  the  abstract,  it  is 
admitted,  on  ail  hands,  would  be  of  service  ;  but  it  is  thought  that 
two  voyages,  with  such  a  short  interval  between,  filled  up  with  the 
unavoidable  excitement  of  Parisian  life,  in  the  mean  while,  would 
not  be  just  the  thing.  ...  I  am  satisfied  that  brief  absences, 
ministering  to  repose,  are  best  for  me  and  all  inl^erests  here. 
I  think  now,  if  all  things  should  favor,  that  I  might  spend  a  few 
days  with  my  brother  at  Albany,  and  perhaps  get  out  to  Auburn 
before  my  return.  But  all  as  yet  is  conjectural.  Brother  Stick- 
NEY  is  with  me  at  the  services  of  this  solemn  week  ;  and  I  continue 
to  be  very  well,  the   '  jerks  '  (the  disorder  in  his  face)  excepted." 


1851.1  CHURCH   OF  THE   ADVENT.  463 

This  is  doubtless  the  proper  place  to  insert  another,  and  his  last^ 
correspondence  with  his  bishop  on  the  subject  of  confirmation :  — 


31  Green  Street,  Friday,  April  11,  1851. 
Right  reverend  and  dear  Sir  :  Will  you  do  me  the  favor  to 
make  an  appointment  for  administering  confirmation  to  the  candi- 
dates at  the  Church  of  the  Advent  before  the  next  meeting  of  the 
diocesan  convention  ?  I  renew  the  offer  made  in  former  years,  to 
place  the  church  and  all  its  arrangements  at  your  entire  disposal 
for  the  service. 

Very  respectfully, 

Your  servant  in  the  ministry, 

W.  CROSWELL. 
To  the  Right  Rev.  Manton  Eastburn,  D.  D.,  Bishop  of  Massachusetts. 

II. 

Tremont  Street,  April  14,  1851. 

Reverend  and  dear  Sir:  Since  the  receipt  of  your  note  of 
Friday  last,  I  have  been  examining  my  list  of  appointments,  in 
order  to  ascertain  the  practicability  of  appointing  some  day  for  con- 
firming your  candidates  just  before  the  time  of  the  meeting  of  the 
convention,  supposing  it  probable  you  are  not  yet  ready  for  the  ad- 
ministration of  the  rite.  I  find,  however,  that  from  the  afternoon 
of  Tuesday  in  Easter  week  to  the  meeting  of  the  convention  my 
time  will  be  continually  occupied.  I  regret  the  fact,  and  have 
therefore  to  propose,  that,  if  agreeable  to  you,  the  confirmation 
take  place  on  the  morning  of  Tuesday  in  Easter  week. 

I  regret  that  a  sense  of  duty  compels  me  again  to  decline  com- 
ing to  your  church,  and   to  appoint  Trinity  Church   as   the  place. 
Divine  service  to  commence  at  eleven  o'clock  in  the  forenoon. 
Very  truly  and  sincerely  yours, 

MANTON  EASTBURN. 

The  Rev,  W.  Croswell,  D.  D. 

III. 

Reverend  and  dear  Sir:  A  note  addressed  to  you  by  myself 
was  by  mistake  dropped  into  the  post  office  this  morning,  instead  of 
another  letter.  I  mention  this  as  an  apology  for  any  delay  which 
may  occur  in  your  receiving  it,  and  also  by  way  of  explanation  of 
my  communication  coming  through  that  conveyance. 
Very  truly,  yours, 

MANTON  EASTBURN. 
Rev.  Dr.  Croswell. 

Tremont  Street,  April  14. 


464  MEMOIR   OF   ^^TLLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1851. 

IV. 

Thursday  before  Easter,  April  17,  1851. 
Right  reverend  and  dear  Sir  :  In  reply  to  your  favor  of  the 
14th,  proposing  to  administer  confirmation  to  our  candidates  on 
Easter  Tuesday  at  Trinity  Church,  instead  of  the  Church  of  the 
Advent,  I  feel  obliged  to  say,  that  apart  from  the  objection  which  I 
have  to  any  other  place  of  worship  being  substituted  for  our  own, 
and  to  any  other  time  than  Sunday,  I  should  not  be  prepared  to 
present  the  candidates  upon  so  short  notice,  and  at  so  early  a  day. 
As  I  deem  it,  however,  of  the  utmost  importance  that  the  rite 
should  be  administered  before  the  conventional  year  expires,  es- 
pecially as  there  will  be  a  considerable  number  of  candidates,  per- 
mit me  to  inquire  if  any  of  the  neighboring  bisliops  who  would  be 
willing  to  administer  confirmation  at  our  church,  with  your  permis- 
sion, might  not  be  allowed  to  do  so. 
Very  respectfully, 

Your  servant  in  the  ministry, 

W.  CROSWELL. 
The  Right  Rev.  Manton  Eastburn,  D.  D. 

V. 

Tremont  Street,  April  21,  1851. 

Reverend  and  dear  Sir  :  In  my  last  note  to  you,  I  mentioned 
that  engagements,  extending  from  the  afternoon  of  Tuesday  in  Eas- 
ter week  to  the  meeting  of  the  convention,  precluded  the  possibil- 
ity of  my  confirming  your  candidates  within  that  period.  Since 
the  receipt  of  yours  of  Thursday  last,  I  have  been  enabled  to  dis- 
pense with  an  engagement  to  which  I  had  appropriated  the  evening 
of  Sunday,  the  I8th  of  May;  and  I  now  write  to  say,  tliat  I  shall 
be  ready  on  that  evening  to  administer  confirmation  to  those  whom 
you  may  present  at  St.  Stephen's  Chapel.  The  service  will  com- 
mence at  half  past  seven. 

That  God  may  accompany  the  occasion  with  the  blessing  of  his 
Holy  Spirit,  is  the  fervent  prayer  of 

Yours,  very  truly  and  sincerely, 

MANTON    EASTBURN. 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Croswell. 

IV. 

Boston,  Maij  10,  1851. 

Right  reverend  and  dear  Sir  :  My  absence  from  town  has 
prevented  an  earlier  reply  to  your  favor  of  the  21st  ultimo. 

While  my  convictions  are  still  the  same  as  those  which  I  have, 
year  by  year,  been  constrained  to  express  to  you,  in  the  way  of  pro- 
test, hereby  renewed,  against  your  continued  neglect  of  the  recog- 
nized   rights    of   my  parish,   and  your   own  official   obligations   in 


1851.]  CHrRCH   OF  THE   ADVENT.  465 

refusing  to  visit  the  Church  of  the  Advent,  according  to  the  pro- 
visions of  the  canon  regulating  episcopal  visitations,  I  do,  notwith- 
standing, instruct  the  unconfirmed  members  of  my  flock  to  embrace 
any  opportunity  which  you  may  think  proper  to  aft'ord  them,  of  ob- 
taining access  to  that  apostolic  ordinance,  under  whatever  circum- 
stances of  personal  inconvenience  to  ourselves,  or  of  undeserved 
reproach  ;  and,  according  to  your  appointment,  I  shall  present,  with 
divine  permission,  such  candidates  for  confirmation  as  can  be  in- 
duced to  accompany  me  to  St.  Stephen's  Chapel,  the  rector  consent- 
ing,  on   the  evening  of  the  fourth  Sunday  after  Easter,  May  18th. 

Heartily  responding   to  your   fervent  prayer,  that  God   may  ac- 
company the  occasion  with  the  blessing  of  his  Holy  Spirit, 
I  am,  very  sincerely. 

Your  friend  and  presbyter, 

W.  CROSWELL. 

Eight  Rev.  Manton  Eastburn,  D.  D.,  Bishop  of  Massachusetts 

During  the  pendency  of  this  negotiation,  he  was  again  absent 
from  his  post  for  a  few  days,  on  one  of  those  short  excursions  which 
had  been  recommended  by  his  friends,  and  for  the  expenses  of 
which  they  had  generously  provided.  This  excursion  began  very 
pleasantly.  He  first  went  to  Greenfield  to  attend  a  wedding  —  the 
parties  being  among  the  best  beloved  of  his  young  friends.  Thence 
he  accompanied  the  bridal  party  to  New  Haven.  Here,  and  at 
Hartford,  he  spent  a  few  days  among  his  friends,  and  every  thing 
passed  off  much  to  his  delight.  But  on  returning  to  New  Haveii 
on  Monday,  the  5th  of  May,  the  scene  was  sadly  changed  ;  and 
during  the  remainder  of  his  visit,  he  was  occupied,  by  night  and 
by  day,  in  watching  over  his  father,  who  was  taken  very  suddenly- 
sick  on  the  very  night  after  his  arrival.  He  thus  writes  to  his  wife, 
May  6 :  "  We  were  all  much  alarmed,  last  night,  that  father,  sooii 
after  he  went  to  bed,  awoke  in  great  pain,  with  some  local  difficulty 
to  which  the  aged  are  incident.  At  two  o'clock,  F.  went  after 
the  doctor,  who  remained  all  night.  He  obtained  but  little  relief, 
and  the  difficulty  does  not  yet  yield.  The  pain,  at  times,  is  very 
intense,  and  must  be  very  exhausting.  The  doctor  does  not  seem 
to  be  discouraged,  but  is  hopeful  that  the  complaint  will  soon  be 
abated.  Of  course,  while  father  is  so  ill,  I  can  say  nothing  with 
regard  to  my  return.  I  shall  hope  to  be  with  you  again  by  Thurs- 
day or  Friday,  but  am  obliged  to  speak  doubtfully.  I  trust  to 
speak  more  definitely  by  to-morrow.  These  pains  are  too  severe 
to  last  very  long.  I  dread  to  anticipate  what  yet  is  a  possible  re- 
sult." Happily,  the  most  distressing  and  alarming  symptoms  in  the 
case  soon  subsided  ;  and  on  Friday  his  father  had  become  so  com- 
fortable that  he  ventured  to  return  to  Boston. 

During  this  visit,  his  sympathies  were  also  awakened  by  another 


466  MEMOIR   OF   WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1851. 

case,  which  affected  him  very  deeply.  He  heard  the  afflicting  in- 
telligence of  the  sudden  death  of  Dr.  Hobart  Curtiss,  a  son  of  his 
friend  Cyrus  Curtiss,  Esq.,  of  New  York,  a  young  physician  of 
great  promise,  who  was  at  the  time  deputy  health  officer  at  Staten 
Island,  and  fell  a  victim  to  ship  fever,  contracted  while  pursuing  his 
duty  among  the  numerous  patients  at  the  hospital.  The  following 
extract  from  a  letter  to  the  young  man's  father  will  show  how 
readily  his  tears  were  mingled  with  those  of  the  afflicted  family  : 
"  Your  peculiar  sorrow  is  one  with  which  not  only  no  stranger  in- 
termeddleth,  but  the  few  only  who  have  experienced  it  can  ade- 
quately appreciate.  I  remember  well  the  shock  when  our  elder 
brother  died  ;  but  it  passed  long  since  into  a  pensive  recollection, 
rather  than  a  living  grief,  in  my  own  case.  Those  who  have  been 
intimate  with  our  family  know  the  shadow  that  then  fell  upon  a 
father's  and  a  mother's  heart,  and  that  it  will  still  fall  darkly  there 
as  long  as  life  —  I  mean  this  life  —  continues.  Miserable  comfort- 
ers, indeed,  at  such  a  time,  are  the  words  of  human  lips ;  but  we 
know,  blessed  be  God,  that,  in  every  such  visitation,  the  heavenly 
Comforter  draws  very  near  to  us.  To  his  holy  influence  your 
hearts  have  been  habitually  open,  and  they  will  not  be  shut  now, 
when  broken  hearts  are  yearning  to  be  bound  up.  Your  son  has 
left  precious  remains  behind  him.  His  open,  generous,  unselfish 
nature,  ever  mindful  of  others,  and  forgetting  his  own  interest  in 
theirs,  endeared  him  to  all  who  knew  him.  Humanly  speaking, 
your  hopes  seem  to  have  perished  abortively,  and  his  sun  has  gone 
down  as  it  were  even  before  its  noon.  At  any  period  of  life,  how- 
ever, if  you  were  to  survive  him,  it  would  have  been  hardly  less 
premature.  As  it  was,  he  was  taken  away  before  he  had  formed 
any  of  those  ties  which  enhance  the  pain  of  parting  —  while  all  his 
affections  were  yet  centred  about  the  home  of  his  parents ;  and 
you  had  the  comfort  —  sad,  indeed,  but  real  —  of  seeing  him  die  in 
your  own  household  ;  ministering  with  your  own  hands  to  his  dying 
needs,  and  breathing  out  his  last  in  the  embrace  of  those  whom  he 
loved  best.  These  are  thoughts,  not,  perhaps,  to  assuage  grief,  but 
to  make  it  tender,  and  consecrated,  and  domestic.  May  God  sanc- 
tify this  great  sorrow  to  every  member  of  your  family,  and  enable 
you  to  comfort  one  another  with  the  words  which  the  Holy  Ghost 
teacheth  in  the  Book  of  God." 

After  his  return  from  this  excursion,  he  applied  himself  diligently 
to  the  preparation  of  his  class  for  confirmation  ;  but  of  the  whole 
number  desirous  of  receiving  this  rite,  few  only  were  willing  to 
submit  any  further  to  the  unreasonable  —  not  to  say  uncanonical  — 
course  of  the  bishop,  in  refusing  to  visit  the  parish  for  the  purpose 
of  administering  the  office  in  their  own  church.  At  the  time  ap- 
pointed, however,  at  half  past  seven  o'clock  in  the  evening,  he  went 


1851.]  CHURCH   OF  THE   ADVENT.  467 

over  to  St.  Stephen's  Chapel,  and  presented  his  little  band  of  eleven 
candidates  for  confirmation.  In  the  subjoined  extract  from  the 
parocliial  report,  which  he  presented  to  the  diocesan  convention  on 
tlie  Tuesday  following,  and  which,  through  the  mysterious  order  of 
Providence,  proved  to  be  his  last,  he  records  what  may  be  consid- 
ered, under  the  circumstances,  as  his  dying  testimony  and  protest 
against  the  wrong  inflicted,  as  well  on  the  parish  as  himself,  by  the 
arbitrary  and  unwarrantable  dictation  of  the  bishop.  After  the 
customary  statistics,  he  adds, — 

"  This  experiment,  so  called,  of  a  free  Church,  for  the  daily 
worship  of  God,  entirely  depending  on  the  voluntary  offerings  of 
the  worshippers,  has  been  signally  successful.  The  number  in  at- 
tendance on  the  service  is  steadily  increasing,  as  well  as  the  amount 
of  consecrated  alms  that  go  up  with  our  prayers,  as  a  memorial 
before  God,  '  on  the  first  day  of  the  week.' 

"  A  font  and  altar,  of  beautiful  proportions  and  workmanship, 
after  designs  by  F.  Wills,  Esq.,  have  been  presented  to  the  church 
since  the  last  report,  from  funds  bequeathed  for  this  purpose  by  a 
communicant  recently  deceased. 

"  The  parish  are  again  compelled  to  complain  of  the  continued 
denial  of  their  right  to  episcopal  visitation,  as  contemplated  by  the 
canons.  The  list  of  candidates  for  confirmation  presented  by  the 
bishop's  direction  at  St.  Stephen's  Chapel,  on  Sunday  evening.  May 
18,'  is  smaller,  on  this  account,  than  it  would  have  otherwise  been." 

These  cares  being  over,  he  began  again  to  lay  plans,  though 
rather  indefinite,  for  future  excursions.  But  day  after  day  passed 
away ;  and  though  he  greatly  desired  to  be  on  his  way,  his  pa- 
rochial engagements  bound  him  down  to  his  post.  Writing  to 
his  father,  Sunday  evening,  June  1,  he  says,  "  The  day  has  been 
very  pleasant,  and  our  church  full.  The  communion  was  one 
of  the  largest  which  I  have  ever  ministered.  I  have  officiated 
all  day,  assisted  in  the  morning  by  good  Dr.  Eaton,  who  has  quite 
recovered  his  health  and  strength.  After  the  evening  service,  I 
went  down  to  Christ  Church,  which  has  been  closed  all  day,  to 
marry  a  couple  and  baptize  an  infant.  These  duties  done,  I  feel 
quite  as  fresh  as  could  be  expected  under  tlie  circumstances." 

On  the  Sunday  evening  following,  (Whit  Sunday,)  being  too 
much  fatigued  by  the  labors  of  the  day  to  take  up  the  pen,  he  em- 
ployed his  wife  as  his  amanuensis ;  and  she  gives,  in  the  course  of 
the  letter,  a  sketch  of  his  duties  for  the  week,  besides  what  came 
upon  him  daily,  viz.,  four  fimerals,  three  of  them  in  one  day,  two 
marriages,  and  seven  baptisms,  on  four  several  occasions. 

His  next  is  a  brief  letter,  under  his  own  hand,  expressing  his 
gratification  at  the  recent  election  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Williams  as 
Assistant  Bishop  of  Connecticut,  and   announcing  his  intention   of 


468  MEMOIR  OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [185L 

leaving  Boston,  on  Tuesday,  June  17,  on  a  short  visit  to  Hartford 
and  New  Haven.  They  accordingly  reached  Hartford  on  the  first 
day,  and  on  the  next  proceeded  to  New  Haven.  Here  his  wife 
and  daughter  were  to  remain  and  prolong  their  visit  ;  hut  he  could 
allow  no  such  indulgence  for  himself.  The  following  Sunday  heing 
appointed  for  preaching  the  Juhilee  Sermon,  he  felt  obliged  to  oc- 
cupy his  own  pulpit  on  the  occasion.  And  as  for  the  sermon  itself, 
that  was  still  to  be  written.  But  in  this  case,  as  in  all  others,  he 
found  himself  equal  to  the  emergency.  Withdrawing,  from  time 
to  time,  from  the  friends  by  whom  he  was  surrounded,  he  prepared 
his  discourse,  and  was  ready  on  Saturday  evening  to  take  his  de- 
parture in  the  night  train  for  Boston.  Of  the  journey,  his  own 
letter,  written  on  Sunday  evening,  will  give  the  best  account : 
"  Health  and  benediction  !  Commend  me  to  the  cars  at  night.  I 
shall  never  cease  wondering  how  we  were  seated  in  them  at  New 
Haven,  at  six  o'clock  in  the  evening,  and  set  down  by  midnight  in 
the  streets  of  Boston.  Mahomet's  supernatural  steed  could  scarce 
perform  more  astonishing  feats.  It  would  be  a  miracle,  if  not  so 
common.  I  like  it  better,  on  the  whole,  for  the  dark.  It  is  cooler, 
and  you  cannot  see  the  dust,  and  even  doze  along ;  and  then  you 
ar^  not  crowded." 

After  a  few  days  of  labor,  during  the  oppressive  heat  of  the 
season,  feeling  much  exhausted,  and  willing  to  escape  the  noise  and 
confusion  of  the  public  celebration  of  the  fourth  of  July,  he  took 
the  opportunity  to  make  a  flying  visit  to  New  Haven,  where  his 
wife  and  daughter  still  remained.  Leaving  on  the  morning  of  the 
1st,  the  journey  was  accomplished  in  a  few  hours.  It  was  not, 
however,  a  very  quiet  visit ;  for,  on  the  2d,  he  attended  the  conse- 
cration of  the  new  church  at  Milford,  nine  miles  distant ;  and,  on 
the  following  day,  he  was  present  at  the  institution  of  the  rector. 
The  4th  was  spent  pleasantly  with  liis  friends  at  New  Haven  ; 
and  on  Saturday,  the  5th,  he  returned,  with  his  family,  to  Boston. 
In  a  brief  note  of  Sunday  evening,  he  speaks  of  their  safe  arrivfd, 
all  well,  except  himself;  and,  notwithstanding  his  own  indispo- 
sition, he  adds,  "  It  has  not  prevented  me  from  full  morning  and 
evening  service  and  communion  ;  and  the  day  has  been  so  cool 
that  our  attendance  has  been  as  large  as  usual.  I  do  not  feel  any 
worse  for  the  labor." 

During  the  remainder  of  the  summer,  though  often  almost  inca- 
pacitated for  duty,  he  found  it  quite  impracticable  to  absent  himself 
from  his  parish.  He  was  particularly  disappointed  in  his  fondly- 
cherished  expectations  of  meeting  his  brother  in  New  Haven,  in  the 
month  of  August.  The  calls  for  pastoral  services  were  so  constant 
and  indispensable,  that  he  was  obliged  to  content  himself  with  a  few 
short  excursions  in  the  vicinity.  And  finally,  on  the  last  day  of 
summer,  he  writes,   "  I  shall  be  stationary  for  a  little  while,   having 


1851.]  CHTJIICII   OF  THE  AD^^ENT.  460 

an  eye  to  a  descent  upon  you  in  the  course  of  the  autumn,  and,  if 
not  before,  shall  hope  to  meet  round  the  paternal  board  on  the  great 
family  festival  of  Thanksgiving."  In  this  fond  anticipation,  how- 
ever, he  was  disappointed.  He  was  never  again  permitted  to  visit 
his  father's  house,  except  for  a  single  day,  and  this  very  near  the 
close  of  his  life.  A  few  more  weeks  only  remained  of  his  mortal 
existence  ;  and  this  brief  space  was  spent  almost  exclusively  in  the 
arduous  duties  of  his  office. 

On  the  first  Sunday  in  September,  he  was  engaged  in  a  most 
solemn  and  affecting  service.  He  was  summoned  to  Greenfield,  to 
attend  the  funeral  obsequies  of  Dr.  Alpheus  Fletcher  Stone,  an 
eminent  and  well-beloved  physician,  for  whom  and  his  family  he 
entertained  the  highest  respect  and  affection.  In  his  letter  of  the 
next  day,  he  writes,  "  I  have  suffered  nothing,  as  I  am  aware,  from 
the  journey,  or  from  the  highly-exciting  services  which  drew  the 
whole  village  together  as  one  man.  ...  I  am  very  happy 
that  I  was  able  to  go.  I  preached  in  the  morning  ;  and  the  whole 
family  were  able  to  be  at  the  communion."  His  friend  Dr.  Strong, 
the  rector  of  the  parish,  though  in  feeble  health,  was  able  to  preach 
the  funeral  sermon  in  the  afternoon.  He  adds,  "At  four  o'clock, 
the  funeral  service  superseded  that  of  the  afternoon.  The  church  was 
thronged,  and  multitudes  about  it,  during  the  services.  A  long 
procession  was  then  formed  to  the  grave :  the  choristers  chanted 
the  anthem,  '  I  heard  a  voice  from  heaven,'  and  the  emotion  with 
which  it  was  sung  gave  it  an  expression  truly  touching.  The  sun 
was  making  a  golden  set  at  the  close  ;  and  the  doctor,  in  thanking 
the  assemblage  for  their  attendance,  made  a  beautiful  allusion  to  it. 
'  We  shall  see,'  says  he,  '  our  friend  again.  Yonder  sun  has  gone 
brightly  to  his  rest ;  but  he  shall  rise  again  to-morrow.  And  our 
friend  shall  rise  again  on  eternity's  great  morning,  when  the  earth 
and  the  sea  shall  give  up  their  dead.'  Every  thing  was  done,  which 
could  be  done,  to  pay  proper  respect  to  the  memory  of  a  good 
man."  But  this,  as  appears  from  the  short  record  of  his  remaining 
days,  was  not  the  last  time  that  he  was  called  to  mingle  his  sympa- 
thies and  his  tears  with  this  afflicted  family.  They  had  sorrow  upon 
sorrow ;  bereavement  followed  bereavement  in  quick  succession ; 
and  within  a  period  of  two  months,  first  a  daughter,  and  then  the 
widow  of  Dr.  Stone,  were  borne  to  the  grave. 

The  biographer  would  not  wish  to  be  thought  to  make  too  much 
of  those  incidents,  which,  as  the  time  of  his  son's  death  approached, 
were  so  frequent,  and,  now  that  he  is  gone,  seem  so  like  premoni- 
tions of  his  approaching  end.  He  is  aware  how  ready  we  all  are 
to  persuade  ourselves,  in  similar  instances,  to  convert  common  occur- 
rences into  extraordinary  coincidences.  And  yet  the  tracing,  or 
the  attempt  to  trace  them,  is  certainly  a  harmless  and  ])leasant  task, 
and  may  be  made  a  profitable  one.      With  this  view,  the  following 


470  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM    CEOSWELL.  [1851. 

extract  from  the  sermon,  just  leferred  to  as  preached  on  the  morn- 
ing of  this  day,  is  placed  before  the  reader  :  — 

"  Standing  as  I  do  here,  at  this  hour,  in  this  sacred  place,  and 
in  view  of  these  solemn  rites,  which  fill  my  mind  .  .  .  having 
much  of  infirmity  to  warn  me  of  the  shortness  and  uncertainty  of 
human  life,  —  and  doubtful  whether  I  may  ever  be  permitted  to  join 
in  such  an  assemblage  on  such  an  occasion  again,  —  let  me  entreat 
you,  as  a  dying  man  speaking  to  dying  men,  to  think  of  these 
things,  as  we  follow  the  remains  of  the  departed  to  their  last  resting- 
place.  Let  not  our  assembUng  here  be  a  barren,  unavailing  so- 
lemnity. Let  it  bear  fruit.  Let  this  solemn  monition  of  our  mor- 
tality fill  us  not  only  with  compassionate  sympathy  with  our  bereaved 
friends,  but  with  solicitude  to  work  —  to  work  out  our  salvation 
with  that  fear  and  trembling  which  befit  those  who  know  not  at 
what  hour  their  Lord  will  come." 

But  his  sympathies  and  his  tears  —  his  joys  and  his  sorrows  —  his 
labors  and  his  cares  —  were  soon  to  cease.  Of  the  remaining  in- 
cidents of  his  life,  a  few  only  of  peculiar  interest  can  be  noted. 
September  22,  he  writes,  "  The  Bishops  of  Fredericton  and  New- 
foundland were  here  for  a  part  of  a  day,  last  week,  on  their  way  to 
Montreal.  They  visited  our  church,  and  the  former  left;  word  for 
me  that  he  would  like  to  preach  at  the  Advent  on  his  return,  and 
make  a  collection  for  his  cathedral,  which  is  verging  towards  com- 
pletion. I  have  signified  to  him  the  delight  which  it  would  afford 
us,  and  our  vestry  entered  cordially  into  it.  He  will  probably  re- 
turn in  the  early  part  of  October."  October  6,  having  learned  that 
the  Bishop  of  Fredericton  had  arrived  at  New  York,  he  addressed  a 
respectful  invitation  to  his  lordship,  to  spend  any  Sunday  at  the 
Church  of  the  Advent  which  might  suit  his  convenience.  To  tliis 
invitation  he  received  a  prompt  and  favorable  reply  ;  and  he  re- 
marks, in  his  letter  of  October  13,  "  A  pleasant  interest  is  excited 
in  the  parish  by  the  announcement  that  the  Bishop  of  Fredericton 
will  preach  for  us  next  Sunday.  .  .  .  He  comes  on  Friday, 
and  will  be  the  guest  of  Peter  Wainwright,  Esq."  The  day  after 
the  bishop's  arrival,  being  the  Feast  of  St.  Luke,  he  attended  the 
Church  of  the  Advent,  assisted  in  the  services,  preached  a  sermon 
adapted  to  the  day,  and  bore  his  appropriate  part  in  the  adminis- 
tration of  the  Holy  Communion.  Of  his  services  on  Sunday,  the 
rector's  own  language  will  convey  the  best  idea.  Writing  to  his 
father  the  following  day,  he  says,  "  The  Lord  Bishop  arrived  on 
Friday,  true  to  his  time.  I  have  been  much  with  him  till  12  o'clock 
to-day,  when  he  embarked  for  his  diocese.  His  coming  was  most 
providential,  if  only  to  convince  all  beholders  of  the  true  points  in 
an  English  bishop's  character.  He  has  charmed  all  who  have  seen 
and  heard  him  by  his  simple,  unostentatious,  straightforward  char- 
acter.      In   the    pulpit  there  is  a  quiet   evenness  of   tone,    and    ii 


1851.]  CHUIICII  OF  THE   ADVENT.  471 

sweetness  that  veils  the  meekness  and  gentleness  of  Clirist.  His 
sermons  were  beautiful.  We  have  asked  him  for  a  copy,  which  he 
has  promised  to  give  us,  to  be  put  into  Boston  type.  It  seems  that  our 
beloved  diocesan  considered  his  officiating  for  us  as  a  great  affront ; 
did  not  call  to  see  him  ;  and  declined  an  invitation  to  dine  with  him. 
To  us,  the  value  of  tlie  visit  is  more  than  we  could  pay  for  in  sover- 
eigns ;  and  I  suppose  that  Bp.  E.  knows  it."  This  last  remark 
refers  to  an  appropriation  by  the  vestry  of  one  hundred  dollars  to 
his  lordshij),  to  aid  him  in  the  object  of  his  visit.  The  following 
further  action  of  the  vestry  will  serve  to  show  in  what  high  estima- 
tion the  visit  was  held  :  — 

"  At  a  meeting  of  the  rector,  wardens,  and  vestry  of  the  Church 
of  the  Advent,  in  Boston,  held  October  26,  1851,  it  was 

"  Unanimously  resolved.  That  the  rector  be  requested  to  commu- 
nicate the  thanks  of  this  body,  in  behalf  of  the  parishioners  gener- 
ally, to  his  lordship  the  Right  Rev.  Bishop  of  Fredericton,  for 
his  impressive  and  valuable  discourses  delivered  in  the  Church  of 
the  Advent,  on  Sunday,  the  19th  instant,  and  to  ask  a  copy  for  pub- 
lication, not  only  as  a  memorial  of  that  interesting  occasion,  but  as 
calculated  to  serve  the  great  and  holy  ends  to  which  his  lordship's 
episcopal  cares  and  labors  have  been  so  successfully  devoted." 

Tuesday,  October  28,  being  the  Feast  of  St.  Simon  and  St.  Jude, 
the  church  was  opened  for  prayers  at  nine,  as  usual,  and  for  the  Holy 
Communion  at  eleven  o'clock,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Eaton  assisting  the  rector. 
On  the  occasion,  he  remarks  in  his  journal,  "  The  Lord  Bishop  of 
Newfoundland  was  present,  and  a  partaker." 

Having  been  invited  to  attend  the  consecration  of  the  Rev.  Dr. 
WiLLiAJis,  the  assistant  bishop  elect  of  the  diocese  of  Connecticut, 
on  Wednesday,  the  29th,  he  writes  to  his  father,  "  It  is  my  design 
to  meet  you  at  Hartford  on  that  interesting  occasion,  and  to  bring 
my  surplice  and  scarf  with  me,  according  to  the  request  in  the 
Witness.  It  is  something  that  the  primitive  diocese  recognizes  the 
white  vestment  as  the  suitable  one  for  all  assisting  in  this  high 
solemnity.  God  willing,  I  shall  leave  here  in  the  afternoon  train  of 
Tuesday."  This  he  was  enabled  to  do  after  attending  to  the  morn- 
ing services,  as  already  noted,  and  leaving  the  parish  in  charge  of 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Monroe.  He  adds,  "  I  must  be  here  on  Friday 
night,  to  give  due  attention  to  All  Saints  on  Saturday ;  and  the 
rather,  as  there  will  be  communion  the  next  day.  But  I  shall  find 
time,  of  course,  to  look  in  at  home  before  I  return.  I  am  glad 
that  you  are  to  take  a  part  in  the  ceremonial  of  consecration.  I 
hope  it  will  be  the  last  which  any  of  the  living  clergy  present  will 
be  called  to  take  part  in.  As  old  Bishop  Andrews  prays,  '  Let 
his  age  be  like  the  age  of  Methuselah,  his  knowledge  like  the  wis- 
dom of  Solomon,  and  suffer  not  the  face  of  thine  anointed  to  be 
cast  down.'  " 


472  MEMOIR   OF  AVILLLIM   CROSWELL.  [1851. 

A  few  brief  notes  from  his  daily  journal  will  furnish  some  partic- 
ulars of  this,  his  last  journey  :  — 

"  Wednesday,  October  29,  1851.  Being  at  Hartford,  Connecticut, 
the  guest  of  my  old  friends  Dr.  Sumner  and  Mrs.  Grosvenor,  I 
attended  the  consecration  of  Dr.  Williams,  assistant  bishop  elect  of 
that  diocese,  in  St.  John's  Church,  The  clergy  were  all  clad  in  sur- 
plices —  not  a  gown  to  be  seen  in  the  whole  number  ;  the  primitive 
diocese  thus  authenticating  the  proper  sacerdotal  dress  to  be  worn 
at  these  high  solemnities.  Took  tea  at  Mr.  Brinley's  with  Dr. 
Wainwright  and  Mr.  Burroughs.  Walked  in  the  dark  and  rain 
to  Bishop  Williams's.  All  the  bishops  and  many  of  the  clergy 
present." 

"  Thursday,  October  30.  At  half  past  eight,  left  in  the  cai-s  for 
New  Haven.  .  .  .  Housed  all  day  with  parents  and  family,  by 
reason  of  rain.  Happy  shelter  at  such  a  time."  Though  compelled, 
by  his  arrangements  at  home,  to  terminate  this  visit  the  next  day, 
he  considered  it  among  the  happiest  incidents  of  his  life. 

"  Friday,  October  31.  Bright  and  pleasant.  Wrote  to  Dr. 
Muhlenberg,  enclosing  subscription  for  the  '  Evangelical  Catho- 
lic' At  eleven,  left  for  Boston.  Reached  home  at  5."  In  this 
letter  to  Dr.  Muhlenberg,  he  enclosed,  from  memory,  a  copy  of 
the  Hymn  for  Charity,  which  will  be  found  at  page  88  of  this 
work.  It  was  published  in  the  Evangelical  Catholic,  with  a  com- 
plimentary note.  After  his  decease,  the  letter  was  also  published ; 
and  it  is  transcribed,  as  among  the  last  of  his  letters,  with  melancholy 
interest : — 

New  Haven,  October  31,  1851. 
Reverend  and  dear  Sir  : 

"  Be  thou  the  first  true  merit  to  befriend  ; 
His  praise  is  lost  who  stays  till  all  commend." 

With  this  couplet  in  my  mind,  I  should  have  been  more  prompt 
to  express  my  gratification  with  your  little  catholic  paper  ;  but 
have  been  waiting  in  the  hope  to  accompany  it  with  a  considerable 
list  of  subscribers.  When  I  return  home,  I  intend  to  canvass  the 
parish  with  this  view ;  but  in  the  mean  while,  lose  no  time  in  estab- 
lishing my  own  claim  to  the  residue  of  the  volume.  The  concep- 
tion corresponds  with  my  own  idea  of  the  great  object  of  any  sheet, 
large  or  small,  and  the  manner  of  its  execution  answers  all  my  ex- 
pectations. I  send  you  an  old  hymn  in  little,  as  adapted  to  the 
view  and  the  ends  you  have  in  contemplation,  and  may  offer  you 
something  newer  of  the  same  descrijition,  should  it  be  desirable. 

"  Stir  up,  O  Lord,  the  wills  of  thy  faithful  people,  that  they, 
plenteously  bringing  forth  the  fruit  of  good  works,  may  by  thee  be 
plenteously  rewarded,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord." 


IS.Jl.J  OIIURCII   OF  THE   ADVENT.  473 

God  strengthen,  sustain,  and  prosper  yon  in  all  your  doiiiirs  begun, 
continued,  and  ended  in  liim. 

Ever  yours,  in  Christ, 

W.  CROSWELL. 

On  the  evening  of  his  return,  he  wrote  a  short  note  to  his  father, 
announcing  his  safe  arrival ;  and  on  the  following  day,  Saturday, 
November  1,  being  the  Feast  of  All  Saints,  he  entered,  with  his 
accustomed  ardor  and  zeal,  upon  those  labors  which  were  so  soon 
to  be  brought  to  a  sudden  close.  With  the  assistance  of  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Monroe,  he  held  the  usual  services,  with  the  communion, 
preaching  also  from  the  text,  "  Wherefore,  seeing  we  also  are  com- 
passed about  until  so  great  a  cloud  of  tvitnesses,  let  us  lay  aside  every 
weight,  and  the  sin  which  doth  so  easily  beset  us,  and  let  us  run  with 
patience  the  race  that  is  set  before  us,  looking  unto  Jesus."  Heb.  xii. 
1,  3.  On  Sunday,  November  2,  being  the  twentieth  Sunday  after 
Trinity,  with  the  assistance  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Eaton  and  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Monroe,  the  communion  was  again  administered,  and  he 
preached  a  sermon  in  continuation  of  the  subject  of  the  preceding 
day.  Of  these  two  discourses,  there  will  be  occasion  to  speak  again, 
at  the  close  of  this  sketch.  At  present,  it  is  sutficieut  to  say,  that 
could  the  preacher  have  been  assured,  at  the  moment,  of  his  own 
very  near  approach  to  the  enjoyment  and  communion  of  the  saints 
in  light,  he  could  not  have  given  higher  evidence  of  his  own  con- 
viction of  the  reality  of  the  doctrine  which  it  was  his  aim  to  incul- 
cate. On  the  evening  of  this  day  he  mailed  his  last  letter  to  his 
father.  It  was  occupied  chiefly  with  domestic  matters.  He  speaks, 
however,  of  the  preceding  services  in  high  animation,  and  concludes 
with  a  passage  which  is  now  recorded  with  painful  emotion.  At 
his  recent  visit,  his  cousin,  E.  S.,  had  presented  him  with  some  very 
choice  note  paper,  coupled  with  an  injunction,  that  he  would  return 
it  well  filled  with  poetry  ;  to  which  he  replied,  that  it  was  his  in- 
tention again  to  indulge  in  his  poetical  vein.  In  reference  to  this 
suggestion,  he  says,  "  I  have  tried  to  make  a  decent  use  of  E.'s 
paper  in  prose.  The  poetry  must  wait  upon  my  leisure."  Alas, 
that  the  leisure  was  never  granted  !  that  the  poetry  was  never 
written  ! 

His  few  remaining  days  were  devoted  most  faithfully  to  his  pas- 
toral duties.  In  addition  to  the  daily  morning  and  evening  prayer, 
he  spent  much  time  in  visiting  the  sick,  the  afflicted,  and  the  desti- 
tute, ministering  counsel,  consolation,  and  alms,  as  the  respective 
cases  required  ;  and  preparing,  as  well  as  his  opportunities  would 
permit,  a  special  sermon,  to  be  delivered  to  the  children  of  the  par- 
ish on  the  approaching  Sunday.  On  Friday,  November  7,  his  forty- 
seventh  birthday,  he  remarked  to  the  Rev.  Mr.  Robinson,  whom  he 
aiet  at  Mr.  Stimpson's  bookstore,  "I  must  go  home  and  finish  my 
60 


474  MEMOIR  OF   WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1851. 

last  sermon."  This  remark  arrested  the  attention  of  the  Rev.  E.  M 
P.  Wells,  who  was  also  present,  and  who,  in  his  peculiarly  earnest 
and  affectionate  manner,  laid  his  hand  familiarly  upon  the  doctor's 
shoulder,  and  said,  "You  do  not  mean,  my  brother,  your  last  ser- 
mon, but  your  last  sermon  for  tliis  week."  To  this  remark  Dr. 
Croswell  made  no  reply,  and  soon  after  they  separated,  nevermore 
again  to  meet  on  earth.  This  incident  was  related  on  the  authority 
of  Mr.  Wells,  in  the  Christian  Witness,  and  copied  into  other 
publications  of  the  day,  coupled  with  a  suggestion  that  it  may  have 
indicated  a  presentiment  of  the  near  approach  of  the  termination 
of  his  labors  on  earth.  But  this  does  not  necessarily  follow.  He 
had  often  expressed  an  opinion  that  the  multiplication  of  sermons,  of 
which  he  had  already  a  great  number,  could  scarcely  be  deemed 
expedient.  And  from  several  circumstances  which  occurred  within 
the  few  days  immediately  preceding,  and  on  the  very  day  of  his 
death,  it  seems  hardly  probable  that  he  was  acting  or  speaking 
under  any  such  apprehension.  But,  be  this  as  it  may,  the  result 
proved  that  the  remark  was  prophetical  of  the  fact ;  for  it  loas,  lit- 
erally, his  last  sermon. 

It  was  during  this  week,  and  near  the  close  of  it,  that  having 
occasion  to  direct  a  letter  to  his  intimate  friend,  the  Rt.  Rev.  John 
WiLLiAJVis,  Assistant  Bishop  of  Connecticut  and  President  of  Trini- 
ty College,  he  recurred,  in  the  close  of  it,  to  the  repeated  afflic- 
tions which  had  fallen  upon  their  common  friends,  the  family  of 
Dr.  Stone,  of  Greenfield  ;  and  after  mentioning  that,  having  heard 
that  Dr.  Strong  was  sick  and  much  exhausted,  he  was  himself 
daily  expecting  a  summons  to  Greenfield  to  attend  the  funeral  of 
Mrs.  Stone,  who  then  was  at  the  point  of  death,  he  says,  "  These 
repeated  afflictions,  which  have  in  so  short  a  time  left  so  desolate  a 
home  where  you  and  I  have  been  made  so  happy,  seem  indeed 
mysterious  !  I  cannot  understand  them.  But  one  thing  I  hiow : 
'  Right  precious  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord  is  the  death  of 
HIS  saints  !  '  "  How  aptly  fitted  was  this  thought,  prepared,  as 
it  were,  for  his  own  burial,  to  comfort  his  own  surviving  friends !  * 

On  Saturday,  November  8,  he  made  his  last  entry  in  his  journal. 
This  is  a  very  brief  record  of  the  transactions  of  the  day  previous 
to  his  death.  Besides  the  ministrations  already  alluded  to,  he  notes 
especially  his  ineffectual  search  after  a  poor  woman,  who  had  ap- 
plied at  his  residence  for  charity,  but  who  had  not  given  correctly 
the  place  of  her  abode.  After  the  labors  of  the  day  were  over,  he 
called  upon,  and  took  tea  with.  Miss  Margaret  Coffin,  an  elderly 
lady,  with  whom  he  had  been  long  associated  in  works  of  charity, 
from  whose  hand  he  had  experienced  many  acts  of  kindness,  and 
for  whose  Christian  character  he  entertained  the   highest    respect 

*  It  has  been  supijosed  that  this  was  the  last  letter  -written  by  him. 


1861.]  CHURCH   OF  THE   ADVENT.  475 

and  veneration.  He  retired  early,  with  tlie  most  pleasant  anticipa- 
tions of  the  solemnities  of  the  ensuing  day. 

ft  was  his  last  day,  that  day  of  trilinlation  and  sorrow  to  his 
friends,  when  he  closed  liis  solemn  duties  in  the  church  militant, 
and  entered  into  his  rest.  He  rose  early,  and  appeared  in  fine 
health  and  spirits,  without  the  slightest  indication  of  indisposition, 
or  apprehension  of  approaching  danger.  Agreeably  to  previous 
arrangements,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Estes  preached  the  morning  sermon, 
while  he  bore  his  part  in  the  services,  and,  at  the  proper  time,  pub- 
lished the  following  notices  :  — 

"  I  propose  to  preach  to  the  children  tliis  afternoon,  on  a  part  of 
the  first  lesson  for  the  morning.  I  hope  the  children  of  the  parish 
will  all  be  in  church." 

"  A  course  of  instruction  on  the  subject  of  confirmation  will  be 
continued  every  Wednesday  evening,  after  divine  service.  Due 
notice  of  the  time  and  j^lace  of  administering  the  rite  will  be  given. 
In  the  mean  while,  all  who  are  interested  are  invited  to  attend."  * 

During  the  intermission,  it  was  remarked  by  his  family  that  he 
never  appeared  more  cheerful.  He  seemed  to  promise  himself 
much  enjoyment  in  the  approaching  services  —  first,  in  admitting 
an  infant,  by  holy  baptism,  into  the  bosom  of  the  Church  ;  and 
last,  in  addressing  the  little  ones  of  his  flock,  in  whose  spiritual 
welfare  he  took  the  deepest  interest.  His  sermon  to  the  children, 
from  2  I^ngs  v.  2,  3,  was  written  in  a  style  of  beautiful  simplicity, 
perfectly  plain,  and  well  adapted  to  the  capacity  of  his  juvenile 
hearers,  and  yet  full  of  the  most  sublime  and  elevated  thoughts. 
As  he  proceeded  in  the  delivery,  it  was  perceived  that  he  occasion- 
ally betrayed  some  signs  of  faltering  in  his  speech  ;  but  this  was 
very  naturally  imputed  to  his  emotions,  and  would  not  have  at- 
tracted particular  notice,  had  he  not  also,  from  time  to  time,  placed 
his  hand  in  an  unusual  manner  upon  the  back  of  his  head,  as  if 
suffering  from  pain  or  distiess.  "  The  children,"  remarks  an  eye- 
witness, "  were  much  aflfected  as  they  saw,  or  thought  they  saw,  tears 
stealing  from  his  eyes.  His  voice,  which  was  ever  gentle  and  soft, 
and  could  scarce  shape  itself  to  a  tone  of  reproof  but  that  it  would 
falter  into  music,  meanwhile  assumed,  as  from  some  presentimental 
emotion,  those  tones  of  tender  pathos  which  rendered  his  speech  no 

*  These  notices  were  found  in  liis  Prayer  Book,  and  are  preserved  as  the  last 
relics  of  his  handwriting,  with  the  exception  of  the  date  and  address  of  a  let- 
ter whicli  he  permitted  his  little  daughter,  who  was  detained  from  cliui-ch  by 
Indisposition,  to  write  to  her  grandfather.  She  commenced  the  letter  in  ink, 
thanking  her  grandfather  for  a  book  which  he  had  given  her,  and  expressing 
a  hope  that  she  might  commit  many  of  the  pieces  to  memory.  But  before  the 
letter  was  finished,  she  added,  in  peucQ,  these  remarkable  lines  :  "  Father  was 
in  the  middle  of  his  sermon  when  he  was  taken  faint,  and  he  was  brought 
home  in  grandma  Carpenter's  carriage ;  but  aunt  Delia  thinks  he  may  get 
well."  Alas,  poor  cMd !  her  father  was  at  this  moment  di-awing  his  last 
breath. 


476  MEMOIR   OF   WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1851 

less  fit  than  if  it  had  been  specially  meant  for  a  valedictory  to  the 
little  ones  of  his  flock."  After  j)roceeding  through  about  two  thirdj 
of  his  manuscript,  he  closed  his  discourse  abruptly,  with  a  few  re- 
marks and  the  customary  ascription.  He  then  pronounced  dis- 
tinctly, from  memory,  the  first  stanza  of  the  hymn  previously  ap- 
pointed to  be  sung  by  the  choir  :  — 

"  Soldiers  of  Christ  arise. 
And  put  your  armor  on, 
Strong  in  the  strength  which  God  supplies 
Through  his  eternal  Son." 

But  in  giving  the  number  of  this  hymn,  which  is  the  eighty-eighth 
in  the  collection,  he  named,  by  a  most  striking  and  extraordinary 
inadvertence,  the  one  hundred  and  eighty-eighth,  in  which  these  lines 
occur  :  — 

"  Determined  are  the  days  that  fly 
Successive  o'er  thy  head  ; 
The  numbered  hour  is  on  the  wing 
That  lays  thee  with  the  dead." 

The  choir,  however,  governed  by  his  original  directions,  sung  the 
hymn  appointed,  during  which  he  stood,  as  usual,  facing  the  altar. 
At  the  conclusion,  he  knelt  down  at  the  chancel  rail,  and  said  from 
memory,  his  book  having  fallen  noiselessly  from  his  hand,  the  fol- 
lowing collect :  — 

"  Direct  us,  O  Lord,  in  all  our  doings,  with  thy  most  gracious 
favor,  and  further  us  with  thy  continual  help ;  that  in  all  our  works 
begun,  continued,  and  ended  in  thee,  we  may  glorify  thy  holy  name, 
and  finally,  by  thy  mercy,  obtain  everlasting  life,  through  Jesus  Christ 
our  Lord.      Amen.'''' 

But  now  his  strength  seems  to  have  entirely  failed.  Instead  of 
rising  and  turning  to  the  congregation,  as  was  his  custom,  to  pro- 
nounce the  concluding  benediction,  he  remained  on  his  knees,  and  said, 
with  a  faltering  voice,  the  apostolic  blessing.  The  congregation  imme- 
diately took  the  alarm,  and  his  friends  rushed  forward  to  his  assist- 
ance. He  was  borne  down  through  the  cliurch  to  the  vestry  room, 
and  from  thence  in  a  carriage  to  his  residence.  Though  at  first 
evidently  conscious,  he  seemed  unable  to  articulate  distinctly,  and 
uttered  but  a  few  words;  and,  being  ajjprised  by  the  physicians  in 
attendance  of  the  dangerous  nature  of  his  attack,  he  composed  him- 
self quietly  on  his  couch,  and  closed  his  eyes,  as  if  in  a  calm  sleep. 
His  old,  long-tried,  and  faithful  friend  and  father  in  the  gospel, 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Eaton,  was  soon  at  his  side,  and,  finding  him  unable 
to  speak,  if  not  unconscious,  knelt  down,  and  taking  him  by  the 
hand,  oflfered  the  Commendatory  Prayer  of  the  Church  :  — 


1851.]  HIS   DEATH.  477 

"O  Almighty  God,  with  whom  do  live  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  per- 
fect, after  they  are  delivered  from  their  earthly  prisons,  we  humbly  commend 
the  soul  of  this  thy  servant,  our  dear  brother,  into  thy  hands,  as  into  the 
hands  of  a  faithful  Creator  and  most  merciful  Savior  ;  most  humbly  beseech- 
ing thee  that  it  may  be  precious  in  thy  sight.  Wash  it,  we  pray  thee,  in  the 
blood  of  that  immaculate  Lamb  that  was  slain  to  take  away  the  sins  of  the 
world  ;  that  whatsoever  defilements  it  may  have  contracted  in  the  midst  of 
this  miserable  and  naughty  world,  through  the  lusts  of  the  flesh,  or  the  wiles 
of  Satan,  being  purgetl  and  done  away,  it  may  be  presented  pure  and  with- 
out spot  before  thee.  And  teach  us  who  survive,  in  this  and  other  like 
daily  spectacles  of  mortality,  to  see  how  frail  and  uncertain  our  own  condition 
is,  and  so  to  number  our  days  that  we  may  seriously  apply  our  hearts  to  that 
holy  and  heavenly  wisdom,  whilst  we  live  here,  which  may  in  the  end  bring 
us  to  life  everlasting,  through  the  merits  of  Jesus  Christ,  thine  only  Son,  our 
Lord.    Amen.''^ 


As  the  word  Amen  was  pronounced  by  the  venerable  priest,  the 
last  breath  was  perceived  to  pass,  gently,  quietly,  and  without  a 
struggle,  from  the  lips  of  the  dying  soldier  of  the  cross,  and  he  was 
at  rest  in  the  bosom  of  his  Savior  ! 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  sensations  produced  by  this  ex- 
traordinary and  appalling  visitation.  The  heart  may  conceive,  but 
words  cannot  express,  the  bitterness  of  this  stroke  to  his  family,  to 
his  parish,  and  to  the  broad  circle  of  friends,  at  home  and  abroad, 
who  were  more  immediately  affected  by  the  dispensation.  The 
publications  of  the  day  tell  something  of  the  pulsations  of  the  popu- 
lar feeling ;  and  to  these  due  reference  will  be  made  in  gathering 
up  the  various  public  and  private  testimonials  on  which  the  biogra- 
pher must  rely  for  the  exhibition  of  his  character.  As  his  biogra- 
pher, he  can  only  add  to  this  portion  of  the  work,  for  the  consola- 
tion of  survivors,  some  of  his  dying  counsels,  selected  from  his  last 
general  discourse,  delivered  on  the  Feast  of  All  Saints,  together 
with  a  brief  account  of  the  funeral  solemnities. 

In  this  discourse,  after  a  glowing  commentary  on  the  text  already 
cited,  closing  in  the  animated  strains  of  the  church  hymn,  — 

"  Behold  the  innumerable  host 
Of  angels  clothed  in  light ; 
Behold  the  spirits  of  the  just 
Whose  faith  is  changed  to  sight. 

Angels,  and  living  saints  and  dead. 

But  one  communion  make  ; 
All  join  in  Christ,  their  vital  Head, 

And  of  his  love  partake,"  — 

he  proceeds  with  his  application  :  — 

"  Such  is  that  heavenly  and  invisible  world  of  saints  and  glori- 
fied  spirits  which  the  word  of  God  discloses,  and  wliich  the  solemn 


478  MEMOIR   OF  AVILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1851. 

offices  of  divine  worship  on  tliis  day,  and  all  days,  are  intended  to 
assist  us  in  realizing.  Would  that  we  might  be  roused  to  a  consid- 
eration of  this  great  scene  ;  would  that  the  vision  of  these  glori- 
fied witnesses  might  inspire  praise  to  God,  whose  truth  and  mercy 
to  them  is  the  confirmation  of  our  faith,  the  encouragement  of  our 
duty,  and  gives  us  in  contemplation  an  antepast  of  our  happiness 
before  we  come  to  its  full  enjoyment.  Here  are  men  of  like  pas- 
sions with  ourselves,  exposed  while  on  earth  to  the  same  or  like 
trials,  both  of  flesh  and  spirit,  witnesses  to  us,  from  their  blessedness, 
of  the  efficacy  of  Christian  faith,  and  the  sure  success  of  diligent 
and  devout  application  to  the  means  of  grace.  Here  are  witnesses 
to  us  of  the  sufficiency  of  the  blood  of  Christ  to  cleanse  from  all  sin, 
to  procure  a  full  and  free  pardon,  and  to  insure  that  triumph 
whereby  the  dying  Christian,  looking  unto  Jesus,  can  exultantly  cry, 
O  Death,  where  is  thy  sting  ?     O  Grave,  where  is  thy  victory  ? 

"  And  especially  let  those  of  us,  beloved  brethren,  who  have  found, 
in  the  anguish  of  bereavement,  no  adequate  human  object  on  which 
their  affections  can  rest,  no  earthly  good  to  fill  the  aching  void, 
ponder  and  meditate  on  these  neglected  yet  solemn  doctrines,  and 
endeavor  not  only  to  believe  them,  but  to  make  them  part  of  our 
habitual  thoughts  —  our  whole  spiritual  nature.  Let  these  thoughts 
and  things  of  an  unseen  world  lift  us  above  the  dangers  and 
temptations  of  things  seen  and  temporal,  and  draw  us  closer  to  His 
cross  by  whom  and  through  whom  alone  the  holy  dead  have  fought 
the  good  fight,  and  are  now  passed  farther  and  farther  into  the 
bosom  of  the  church  triumphant  and  the  glorious  prospects  of  heaven. 
Let  us  feel  how  all  that  was  truly  them  and  theirs  still  survives,  and 
how  deeply  they  should  live  in  our  affections  —  communing  with 
them  in  the  same  love  we  bore  them  while  living,  and  that  love 
exalted  and  purified  by  their  departure,  and  looking  forward  to  a 
more  spiritual  intercourse  than  ever  the  past  afforded.  With  these 
views,  well  may  all  that  they  valued  be  the  more  endeared  to  us  ;  well 
may  the  house  and  altar  of  God,  where  we  communed  often  to- 
gether, —  the  spot  where  we  last  took  leave  of  all  of  them  that  was 
mortal,  — become  to  us  holy  ground  —  a  place  set  apart  and  hallowed 
to  tender  recollections,  to  holy  musings,  to  fruitful  meditations,  to 
pious  resolves,  to  strong  yet  chastened  anticipations  of  that  hour  of 
unspeakable  bliss  —  too  intense  to  bear,  except  the  Spirit  strengthen 
us  —  of  seeing  our  lost  brethren,  of  looking  on  them  again,  of 
having  them  at  our  side.  Can  we  conceive,  indeed,  any  more 
afffecting  call  to  a  holy  life  than  this  hope  of  meeting  in  another 
world  the  brethren  and  little  ones  of  our  Father's  house,  and 
dwelling  with  them  forever,  with  our  capacities  of  love  enlarged, 
our  mutual  infirmities  removed,  our  vile  bodies  made  into  glorious 
bodies,  and  our  spirits  made  perfect  ?  And  as  every  little  thing 
brings  them  up  in  our  minds,  —  our  house,  our  room,  our  gardens. 


1851.]  SERMON   FOll  AI,L   SAINTS'.  479 

our  walks,  the  little  ornaments  in  our  apartments,  all  serve  to 
touch  a  chord  in  our  souls,  —  let  not  these  awakeners  of  thought 
cause  us  only  a  pang  of  sorrow.  Let  us  turn  them  into  angels' 
voices.  Let  them  warn  us  of  sin,  and  incite  us  to  all  virtuous  and 
godly  living ;  to  that  preparation  for  Christ's  coming,  that  life  of 
prayer  and  good  works,  which  would  make  our  hope  of  meeting 
them  in  heaven  not  a  mere  baseless  dream  —  a  hope  not  wildly 
and  unreasonably  entertained.  And  in  order  that  the  dead  in 
Christ  may  have  this  godly  influence,  can  we  do  better  than  to  set 
apart  some  fixed  and  given  seasons  for  their  more  solemn  com- 
memoration ?  Can  we  do  better  than  to  devote  such  a  feast  as 
this  to  tlieir  memory  —  thinking  of  the  religiousness  of  their  earthly 
life,  of  their  everlasting  recompense  as  faithful  servants  of  Christ, 
and  of  the  hope  of  living  with  them  in  heaven,  should  we  follow 
their  steps  on  earth  1 

"  Blessed  are  we  when  the  thought  of  the  glorified  child,  or 
parent,  or  wife,  or  brother,  or  sister,  or  friend  thus  becomes  an 
incitement  and  aid  to  heavenly-mindedness.  Blessed  are  we  when 
we  act  as  if  we  heard  their  voices  calling  us,  '  Come  up  hither, 
and  dwell  with  us  —  do  not  grow  cold  and  careless ; '  when  they 
seem  to  lay  hold  upon  us,  as  the  angels  did  upon  the  lingering 
patriarchs,  to  hasten  our  flight.  When  we  thus  think  of  them,  we 
would  fain  be  with  them.  But  duties  remain.  We  seem  like  a 
man  toiling  and  wearied  amid  the  harvest  field,  but  in  sight  of  the 
home  where  his  family  and  kindred  are  gathering,  one  by  one,  to 
keep  some  joyous  festival ;  who  often  turns  a  wistful  glance  towards 
them,  and  then  bends  patiently  to  his  toil,  knowing  that  the  evening 
will  dismiss  him  to  their  enjoyments,  and  lending,  a  sturdier  blow 
to  the  work  that  must  be  done,  animated  by  that  homeward  glance. 
So  may  our  view  of  the  glorified  cloud  of  witnesses  lead  us  to  a 
more  vigorous  discharge  of  life's  duties,  to  '  lay  aside  every  weight, 
and  the  sin  that  doth  so  easily  beset  us,  and  to  run  with  patience 
the  race  that  is  set  before  us.' 

"  And  now,  beloved  brethren,  '  looking  unto  Jesus,  the  author 
and  finisher  of  our  faith,'  as  penitent  believers,  longing  in  our 
inmost  hearts  for  that  which  neither  the  world  nor  popular  religion 
can  insure  us,  — the  communion  of  saints,  —  let  us  seek  it,  where  the 
Apostles'  creed  declares  it  is,  in  the  Holy  Catholic  Church,  whose 
ministries  and  ordinances  have  descended  to  us  in  unbroken  suc- 
cession. Let  us  endeavor  to  sound  the  depths  of  that  spiritual 
service,  wherein,  if  its  words  be  not  a  solemn  mockery,  God  does 
'  vouci)safe  to  feed  us,  who  duly  receive  these  holy  mysteries,  with 
the  spiritual  food  of  the  most  precious  body  and  blood  of  his  Son 
Jesus  Christ ;  and  does  assure  us  thereby  of  his  favor  and  goodness 
towards  us,  and  that  we  are  very  members  incorporate  in  the  mys- 
tical body  of  his  Son,  which  is  the  blessed  company  of  all  faithful 


480  JklEMOm   OF  WILLIAil   CROST^TILL.  |18ol. 

people,  and  are  also  iieirs  through  hope  of  his  everlasting  kingdom.' 
May  He  of  whose  only  gift  it  cometh  that  we  may  lawfully  use 
such  language,  and  entertain  hopes  so  high,  enable  us  to  yield  our- 
selves to  these  sanctifying  and  solemn  convictions ;  and,  expanding 
our  souls  towards  every  human  being,  whether  near  or  distant, 
whether  in  this  world  or  the  other,  whom  he  hath  made  dear  to  us, 
may  he  call  forth  our  hearts  and  minds  to  grasp  all  that  is  meant 
in  these  marvellous  words ;  that  so,  rising  above  the  feeling  which 
thinks  Christ  honored  by  contrasting  his  grace  and  merits  with  his 
own  ordinances,  we  may  seek  ever  to  view  and  receive  him  in  the 
sacraments  of  his  ineffable  mercy  to  mankind,  and  excite  our 
expectations  to  reach  after  some  special  intercourse  with  him  and 
his  in  the  communion  of  his  dying  love  !  " 


THE    FUNERAL. 

The  father  and  the  two  surviving  brothers  of  the  deceased,  having 
been  summoned  by  telegraph,  arrived  at  Boston  on  Monday  even- 
ing, and,  on  the  following  day,  the  arrangements  were  settled  for 
the  funeral  solemnities,  and  for  conveying  the  remains  to  the  place 
of  interment.  The  funeral  was  solemnized  on  Wednesday  morn- 
ing. The  Right  Reverend'  Bishop  Eastburn  in  his  episcopal 
robes,  and  a  large  number  of  the  clergy  in  their  priestly  vestments, 
agreeably  to  a  resolution  passed  at  a  previous  meeting,  met  at  the 
residence  of  the  deceased,  in  Green  Street.  The  bishop  and  clergy 
preceded  the  bier,  which  was  borne  by  the  wardens  and  vestry  of 
the  Church  of  the  Advent,  attended  by  the  following  pall  bearers 
in  surplices :  — 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Edson,  of  Lowell, 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Burroughs,  of  Portsmouth,  N.  H., 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Vinton,  of  Boston, 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Wells,  of  Boston, 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Greenleaf,  of  Boston, 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Mason,  of  Boston, 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Clinch,  of  Boston, 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Lambert,  U.  S.  N. 
The  procession  was  met  at  the  door  of  the  church  by  the  Rt.  Rev. 
Bishop  Williams,  D.  D.,  of  Connecticut,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Wainavright, 
of  New  York,  and  the  Rev.  Drs.  Eaton  and  Strong.  The  burial 
service  was  read  by  the  Rt.  Rev.  Bishop  Williams  and  the  Rev. 
Dr.  Wainwright.  "  The  church  was  crowded,"  says  the  Christian 
Witness,  "  with  a  most  solemn  assembly,  and  all  the  services  of  the 
mournful  occasion  were  deeply  impressive."  Among  the  clergy 
present,  in  addition   to   those  already  named,  were   the   Rev.  Drs. 


1851.1  THE   FUNERAL.  481 

Fuller,  Shepard,  and  Wayland,  and  the  Rev.  Messrs.  Robinson, 
Randall,  Allen,  Wildes,  Smithett,  VVithington,  Baury,  S.  B. 
Babcock,  W.  R.  Babcock,  Bartlett,  Burroughs,  F.stes,  Fales, 
Field,  Foxcroet,  Hallam,  Haskins,  Hoppin,  Wm.  Horton,  Page, 
Geo.  W.  Porter,  and  Slafter,  of  Massachusetts ;  Rev.  .Tohn 
Kelly  and  Rev.  W.  S.  Childs,  of  New  Hampshire  ;  Rev.  S.  R. 
Slack,  of  Virginia ;   and  Rev.  N.  W.  Monroe,  of  New  York. 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  services  at  the  church,  the  coffin  was 
conveyed  to  the  station  house  of  the  Worcester  Raih'oad,  and  put  in 
charge  of  a  committee  of  the  parish,  consisting  of  Messrs.  C.  P. 
Gordon,  (Junior  Warden,)  .T.  P.  Tarbell,  F.  E.  Oliver,  N.  A. 
Parks,  Charles  Grafton,  and  R.  H.  Salter,  who  j^roceeded,  in 
company  with  the  lather,  brothers,  and  a  few  other  friends,  to  New 
Haven.  They  arrived  early  in  the  same  evening,  and  were  met 
by  several  of  the  vestry  of  Trinity  Church  and  other  friends,  who 
attended  the  body  to  the  parsonage,  where  it  was  placed  in  the 
same  parlor  which  had  been,  but  a  few  days  previous,  the  scene  of 
some  of  the  happiest  hours  in  his  father's  house. 

On  the  following  morning,  his  mortal  remains  were  borne  to  the 
family  burying  lot  in  the  New  Haven  cemetery,  and  committed  to 
his  grave  by  the  side  of  that  of  his  elder  brother,  whose  early  death 
had  called  forth  one  of  the  sweetest  and  most  touching  poetical 
effusions  of  his  pen.* 


CHARACTER  OF  THE  DECEASED. 

His  biographer  might  shrink  almost  intuitively  from  the  perform- 
ance of  this  delicate  portion  of  his  undertaking,  were  he  obliged  to 
rely  solely  on  his  own  judgment.  He  might  fear,  that,  through  the 
warmth  of  paternal  affection,  the  more  attractive  points  in  his  char- 
acter might  be  overdrawn ;  or,  dreading  the  imputation  of  such 
undue  partiality,  he  might  be  induced  to  withhold  many  things 
absolutely  necessary  to  the  full  development  of  the  truth.  But, 
happily,  he  is  placed  in  no  such  dilemma.  The  materials  for  this 
part  of  the  work  are  furnished  by  other  hands;  and  he  may  employ 
the  language  of  friendship,  indeed,  but  a  friendship,  we  trust,  not 
to  be  suspected  of  improper  bias.  We  select,  from  a  mass  of  public 
and  private  testimonials,  all  that  may  be  deemed  essential  in  making 
out  the  portraiture.  These  are  drawn  from  the  periodical  press, 
from  the  action  of  public  bodies  and  associations,  from  pulpit 
discourses,  and  from  the  voluntary  tributes  of  private  friendship. 

*  The  "  Two  Graves  ;  "  see  page  16. 
61 


MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1851. 


THE  PERIODICAL  PRESS. 

The  Boston  daily  papers,  in  announcing,  on  the  following  day, 
the  striking  circumstances  of  his  death,  appended  such  eulogistic 
remarks  as  seem  to  have  heeii  dictated  by  the  first  impulse  of  the 
moment.     One  or  two  extracts  will  serve  as  specimens  :  — 

From  the  Courier.  —  "  Dr.  Croswell  was  a  native  of  Hudson, 
N.  Y.,  but  had  been  for  many  years  an  inhabitant  of  Boston,  and 
was  at  one  time  rector  of  the  North  Church.  He  was  eminent  for 
the  kindness  of  his  heart,  the  amenity  and  unaffected  simplicity  of 
his  maimers,  and  the  genuine  Christian  benevolence  which  is  not 
confined  to  theory,  but  exhibits  itself  in  daily  practice.  The  be- 
reaved, the  afiiicted,  and  the  destitute  were  certain  to  find  his  heart 
and  purse  open  for  their  consolation  and  relief  The  memory  of 
his  quiet  and  unobtrusive  charities  will  rise  in  the  hearts  of  all  who 
knew  him,  like  flowers  to  deck  the  good  man's  grave." 

From  a  correspondent  of  the  Transcript.  — "  Thus  Dr.  Cros- 
well died  emphatically  in  the  gospel  harness  —  the  very  condition 
above  all  others  in  which  he  would  have  prayed  to  close  up  his  use- 
ful and  dutiful  life.  To  a  few  of  his  closest  friends  he  had  some 
time  ago  expressed  the  conviction  that  he  was  liable  to  be  called 
away  at  almost  any  moment ;  and  he  was  always  ready  for  the 
event  which  has  surprised  his  people  with  a  sorrow  that  may  not  be 
told.  He  was  indeed  a  high  model  of  Christian  character  ;  full  of 
honorable,  and  gentlemanly,  and  endearing  qualities ;  in  a  word, 
his  daily  life  was  an  embodiment,  so  far  as  human  frailty  may  well 
permit,  of  our  holy  religion.  The  worshippers  at  the  Church  of  the 
Advent  loved  him  as  a  father,  and  honored  him  greatly  as  a  man. 
To  those  whose  sick  bed  he  has  softened  with  his  calm  sympathies 
and  solemn  benedictions,  his  death  is  a  loss  indeed. 

"  In  person.  Dr.  Croswell  was  above  the  medium  size,  finely 
built,  and  a  very  pattern  of  manly  beauty.  His  mind  was  an  admi- 
rable combination  of  genius  and  practical  wisdom,  its  greatness  so 
hidden  in  its  fine  proportions  that  it  took  a  long  and  close  acquaintr 
ance  rightly  to  measure  and  estimate  his  powers." 

To  these  may  be  added  a  few  extracts  from  the  religious  peri- 
odicals of  Boston :  — 

From  the  Christian  Witness.  —  "  The  sudden  summons  of  a 
friend  from  this  world  to  the  next  almost  invariably  shocks  the 
mind  with  a  species  of  awe,  when  the  unlooked-for  intelligence  first 
strikes  the  ear.     We  seem  to  start  at  it  as  at  something  dreadful ; 


1851.]  CHARACTER   OF  THE   DECEASED.  483 

and  yet,  when  it  occurs  under  circumstances  sucli  as  attended  the 
last  hour  of  our  deceased  brother,  there  is  much  in  it  which,  to  the 
Christian  mind,  is  truly  pleasant.  There  is  something  delij'htful, 
we  might  say  almost  glorious,  in  tlie  idea  of  the  Christian  soldier's 
dying  in  the  field  with  '  all  his  armor  on.'  In  such  a  death  tliere 
is  much  more  to  be  thankful  for  than  there  is  to  be  dreaded. 

"  Dr.  Croswell  was  endowed  with  an  intellect  of  a  high  order, 
well  disciplined  by  a  classical  education.  His  poetical  gifts  were 
such  as  would  have  placed  him  among  the  first  of  American  poets, 
had  he  given  particular  attention  to  their  cultivation.  Some  of  the 
pieces  from  his  pen  are  among  the  choicest  gems  in  our  language. 
Blessed  with  a  very  amiable  disposition,  which  manifested  itself  in 
a  manner  marked  for  its  amenity,  it  is  not  extraordinary  that  he 
had  many  friends,  and  that  they  were  strongly  attached  to  him. 
Few  men  in  this  community  have  been  more  respected.  All  ad- 
mired the  purity  and  simplicity  of  his  Christian  character,  however 
they  may  have  diftered  from  him  in  his  theological  views.  He  has 
gone  to  his  rest.     Blessed  are  the  dead  who  die  in  the  Lord." 

From  the  Christian  Register.  —  "The  circumstances  of  the  de- 
cease of  this  worthy  and  lamented  clergyman  are  peculiarly  im- 
pressive, we  will  not  add  affecting,  because  that  must  be  regarded 
a  happy  and  even  enviable  departure  by  which  the  faithful  ser- 
vant is  permitted,  as  in  a  moment,  to  depart  from  his  labor  to  his 
reward. 

"  Our  opportunities  did  not  bring  us  to  any  intimacy  of  friend- 
ship with  this  excellent  person,  nor  would  our  personal  acquaint- 
ance authorize  our  attempting  to  portray  his  character.  That  office 
should  be  reserved  for  those  who  knew  and  can  appreciate  his 
peculiar  gifts  and  virtues.  But  we  were  accustomed  to  meet  Dr. 
Croswell  as  a  neighbor,  and  for  several  years,  while  he  was 
rector  of  Christ  Church,  in  the  northern  part  of  the  city,  being 
within  the  same  walks  of  professional  duty,  we  were  witnesses  for 
ourselves,  and  not  seldom  did  we  hear  from  others,  of  the  constancy, 
fidelity,  cheerful  contentment,  and  religious  trust  with  which,  from 
Sabbath  to  Sabbath,  and  from  year  to  year,  he  fulfilled  a  laborious 
ministry,  and  discharged  much  duty  with  little  recompense  of  re- 
ward. We  loved  to  meet  him  in  our  own  walks  of  duty,  to  ex- 
change with  him,  if  not  professional  congratulations,  yet  fraternal 
sympathies,  and  then  to  go  on  our  way  cheered  by  the  light  of  his 
manly  countenance  and  the  kind  pressure  of  his  hand. 

"  As  the  rector  of  the  Church  of  the  Advent,  whatever  diversities 
of  opinion  may  have  existed  between  himself  and  some  of  his  breth- 
ren, —  into  which  neither  we  nor  they  would  be  disposed, "on  this  oc- 
casion, for  a  moment  to  enter,  —  we  learn  from  testimony,  various 
and  affectionate,  that  he  was  to  his  people  the  object  of  their  entire 


484  MEMOIR   OF   WILLIAM   OROSWELL.  [185L 

confidence  and  regard  ;  that  '  they  loved  hiin  as  a  father,  and  honored 
hhn  as  a  man,'  And  the  whole  aspect  of  the  church  on  the  morning 
of  his  interment,  as  the  bereaved  flock  gathered  in  silent  and  respect- 
ful grief  to  pay  their  tribute  to  his  remains,  gave  touching  evidence 
of  their  sense  of  their  loss,  that  not  only  an  instructor  and  guide, 
but  a  friend  and  a  pastor  who  knew  his  flock,  and  '  one  who  com- 
forted the  mourners,'  was  taken  from  them." 
t 
From  other  secular  and  religious  papei's  :  — 

The  New  Haven  Register,  to  a  brief  notice  of  his  death,  adds  this 
testimony  :  "  Besides  the  large  circle  of  friends  on  whom  this  blow 
has  suddenly  fallen,  the  Church  of  the  Advent,  of  which  he  was 
the  rector,  and  which  had  grown  up  under  his  untiring  labors,  his 
loss  will,  apparently,  be  irreparable.  Quiet  and  unassuming  in  his 
habits,  his  mind  and  heart  were  the  home  of  the  strongest  affections, 
of  the  keenest  perception  of  the  truthful  and  the  beautiful,  and  of 
the  loftiest  ideal  conceptions  :  in  works  of  art  and  taste,  his  judgment 
was  exquisitely  nice  and  accurate.  As  a  poet,  Mr.  Griswold  has 
appropriately  included  him  in  his  list  of  the  Sacred  Poets  of  England 
and  America ;  and  the  etlitor  of  the  American  edition  of  Reble's 
Christian  Year  has  enriched  even  that  rare  collection  of  gems  with 
extracts  from  the  late  Dr.  Croswell's  gifted  pen.  The  editor  of 
that  book  also  said  of  him,  that  '  he  has  more  unwritten  poetry 
in  him  than  any  man  he  ever  knew.'  The  strength  of  his  re- 
ligious character,  and  the  depth  of  his  devotion,  will  be  most  highly 
appreciated  by  those  who  knew  him  best.  He  has  fallen  in  the 
vigor  of  manhood,  with  his  armor  on.  Pleasant  memories  linger 
behind  him  ;  and  the  sympathies  of  true  hearts  in  all  parts  of  our 
country  will  mingle  with  the  sorrows  of  the  bereaved  family." 

A  communication  under  the  signature  of  "  H.,"  and  dated 
»«  Church  of  the  Advent,  Boston,  November  11, 1851,"  appeared  in  the 
Neio  York  Churchnan.  This  communication,  which  we  do  not 
hesitate  to  ascribe  to  the  Rev.  H.  W.  Hudson,  contained,  among 
other  things,  a  correct  biographical  sketch  of  the  deceased,  some 
touching  particulars  of  his  last  hours,  (a  portion  of  which  we  have 
already  cited,)  and  a  few  sentiments  of  high  admiration,  which  were 
also  sent  to  the  Boston  papers.  The  few  remaining  passages  are 
subjoined  as  the  testimony  of  one  whose  accuracy  in  judging  can 
only  be  excelled  by  the  gracefulness  of  his  drawing  from  the  lin- 
eaments of  the  human  character.  "  Thus  Dr.  Croswell,  the  gifted 
and  the  good,  has  passed  away  from  us,  closing  up  his  useful  and 
beautiful  life  on  the  very  field,  and  in  the  very  harness,  as  it  were, 
of  his  heavenly  warfare :  the  stroke  of  death  literally  took  him 
with  the  words  of  life  upon  his  lio;^  —  the  condition,  above  all  others, 


1851.]  CHARACTER.  485 

vvliereiii  he  would  have  prayed,  and  indeed  has  often  said  he 
wished,  the  last  summons  might  find  him."  After  nientiotiinjj  his 
settlement  in  the  Church  of  the  Advent,  he  adds,  "  He  was  the 
first  to  institute  and  carry  out  in  Boston  the  plan  of  a  church  with 
free  sittinj^s,  the  weekly  offertory,  and  the  daily  service  ;  and  that 
church,  from  the  beginning,  has  been  a  place  where  all  who  were  so 
minded  could  enjoy  the  precious  gift  of  our  daily  matins  and  even 
song.  That  plan  has  been  altogether  successful.  In  this  sacred 
work  Dr.  Croswell  had  given  himself  no  rest,  and  under  his  wise 
cherishing,  with  the  blessing  of  God,  a  church  has  grown  up  in  less 
than  seven  years,  which  unquestionably  has  at  this  day  more  life, 
more  energy,  and  more  operative  virtue  than  any  other  parish  in 
New  England.  We  can  but  hope  and  pray  that  the  memory  of 
their,  departed  rector,  so  deeply  beloved  and  so  worthy  of  their  love, 
will  be  as  an  angel  of  peace  to  knit  and  hold  that  noble  cluster  of 
warm  hearts,  clear  heads,  and  steady  hands  into  still  increasing 
strength.  Doubtless  they  will  adhere  most  religiously  to  the  order 
he  has  established  —  a  course  wherein  they  will  hardly  be  opposed, 
save  by  those  who  prefer  their  own  opinions  to  the  faith  once 
delivered  to  the  saints. 

"  To  have  done  such  a  piece  of  work,  is  itself  the  best  possible 
testimony  to  the  strength  and  skill  of  the  workman.  This  is  no 
time  to  enter  upon  his  literary  and  intellectual  merits :  but  Dr. 
Croswell  was  no  ordinary  man  ;  we  have  simply  never  known  one 
in  whom  the  elements  Avere  more  choicely  mixed  up.  His  mind 
was  a  rare  and  happy  combination  of  genius  and  practical  wisdom  ; 
its  real  greatness  being  so  hidden  in  its  fine  proportions,  that  it 
took  a  long  and  close  acquaintance  rightly  to  measure  and  estimate 
his  powers.  His  breadth,  and  compass,  and  variety  of  intellectual 
endowment,  his  clearness  of  style  and  subtilty  of  method,  rendered 
him  an  admirable  study.  Those  who  only  saw  the  habitual  smooth- 
ness and  serenity  of  his  spirit  could  have  little  idea  what  rich 
treasures  of  energy  and  living  force  were  wrapped  up  in  him ; 
what  a  basis  of  firm,  strong,  manly  sense  and  thought  did  underlie 
the  calm  grace  of  his  simple  manners  and  the  sweet  order  of  his 
every-day  deportment.  With  less  beauty  and  symmetry,  he  would 
have  seemed  to  have  more  strength  of  mind  and  character ;  the  best 
evidence  of  his  strength  being,  that  he  knew  how  to  withhold  it  till 
he  had  a  fitting  occasion  for  putting  it  forth.  His  taste  was  cxtiui- 
site ;  his  sermons,  which  were  certainly  the  best  we  ever  heard, 
were  models  of  chaste  and  candid  composition  ;  his  keen  sense  ot 
the  sacredness  of  his  office  keeping  out  of  them  all  that  fiippant 
smartness  and  brilliancy  which  distinguishes  popular  preachers. 

"  Dr.  Croswell's  ])iety  issued  in  a  still,  deep,  steady  current  of 
good  works :  his  method  of  religion  was  to  have  as  much  of  sub- 
stance, with   as    little  of  surface,   as   possible.      In    society   he    was 


486  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [185L 

modest  and  reserved ;  and  every  thing  about  him  quietly  spoke  the 
delicacy  and  refinement  of  the  finished  gentleman.  But,  indeed, 
(fi)r  we  must  close  this  notice,)  he  was  a  high  model  of  Christian 
character ;  full  of  honorable,  and  gentlemanly,  and  endearing 
qualities ;  in  a  word,  his  daily  life  was  an  embodiment,  as  far  as 
human  frailty  may  well  permit,  of  the  very  spirit  and  genius  of  our 
holy  religion. 

"  In  person,  Dr.  Croswell  was  above  the  medium  size,  finely 
built ;  and  all  together  might  well  be  quoted  as  a  pattern  of  manly 
beauty.  Last  night  we  saw  his  remains  '  hearsed  in  death  ; '  and 
certainly  our  eye  never  lighted  on  a  more  beautiful  vision.  It 
seemed  as  if  the  departing  spirit  had  lingered  to  trace  its  new-born 
beauty  upon  the  earthly  form  where  it  was  used  to  abide." 

The  following,  from  the  pen  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Horatio  Potter, 
rector  of  St.  Paul's  Church,  in  Albany,  appeared  in  the  Evening 
Journal  of  that  city  :  — 

"  Rev.  William  Croswell,  D.  D.,  of  Boston.  —  How  many 
hearts,  in  every  part  of  the  country,  will  be  profoundly  aff"ected  at 
the  sudden  departure  of  this  eminent  and  much-loved  servant  of 
God  !  It  so  happened  that  he  had  been  little  known  in  this  com- 
munity, not  having  officiated  here  for  many  years,  and  his  visits  to 
the  city  having  been  unfrequent  and  strictly  private  ;  but  even  here 
there  are  very  many  who  will  desire  to  pay  a  fervent  tribute  to  the 
memory  of  this  good  man  ;  this  gentlest  and  kindest  of  friends ; 
this  lovely  Christian  gentleman ;  this  zealous  minister  of  God's 
Church ;  whose  spirit,  calm  and  cheerful,  but  elevated  and  glowing, 
kept  the  fire  ever  alive  on  the  altar,  and  diffused  warmth  and  bright- 
ness wherever  it  appeared.  Who  ever  met  him  without  wishing  to 
meet  him  again  *  There  was  something  so  soothing  and  so  cheer- 
ing about  his  presence,  and  something  so  placid  and  so  elevated, 
that  turbulence,  and  passion,  and  care  seemed  to  flee  away  at  the 
approach  of  his  beaming  countenance,  while  peace,  and  gladness, 
and  good  will  rose  up  to  bid  him  welcome.  And  then  he  was  so 
reflective  ;  the  play  of  his  fancy  was  so  beautiful  and  so  Christian- 
like ;  his  thoughts,  especially  when  he  was  with  only  a  few  friends, 
seemed  to  mount  up  so  naturally  to  the  dearest  objects  of  Christian 
taste  and  Christian  devotion,  and  often  to  make  themselves  apparent 
so  sweetly  in  his  looks  and  manner,  when  he  was  too  modest  and 
too  reverent  to  express  them  fully, — that  you  yielded  yourself  up 
to  truth  and  nature ;  you  became  lost  in  the  contemplation  of 
beautiful  and  holy  things,  and  found  so  much  of  feeling,  and  so  little 
of  art,  that  you  forgot  you  were  communing  with  an  accomplished 
Christian  poet. 

"  The  writer  of  tliese  few  lines  assisted  at  his   ordination,  when 


1861.*  CHAHACTER.  487 

he  was  admitted  to  the  sacred  ministry  by  the  Riglit  Rev.  Bishop 
Brownell,  of  Connecticut,  and  well  remembers  how  he  appeared 
that  day,  (twenty  years  or  more  ago,)  and  how  his  whole  nature 
seemed  to  bow  down  to  receive  the  awful  gift  conferred  upon  liim. 
How  many  liearts  has  he  won  since  that  day  !  —  won  for  himself, 
and  won  for  his  divine  Master.  Where  has  he  ever  been  without 
making  himself  loved  ?  It  will  be  for  others  to  speak  of  his  powers 
as  a  writer,  as  a  poet,  as  a  preacher,  as  a  Christian  pastor.  Several 
years  ago,  at  the  desire  of  a  number  of  gentlemen  in  Boston,  he 
returned  to  that  city,  and  tlie  Church  of  the  Advent  was  organized, 
and  its  holy  place  opened  for  daily  prayers  and  a  weekly  commu- 
nion ;  and  there,  twice  every  day,  he  was  to  be  found  leading  the 
devotions  of  an  earnest  and  praying  people.  His  aged  father,  that 
valiant  soldier  of  the  cross,  who  has  won  so  many  trophies,  yet 
survives  to  follow  all  tliat  is  mortal  of  his  gifted  son  to  the  tomb, 
and  to  feel  and  know  that  that  son  has  entered  into  his  rest  before 
him.  That  he  departed  at  the  going  down  of  the  sun  on  God's  holy 
day  ;  that  he  was  called  even  in  the  holy  place,  and  in  the  midst 
of  his  sacred  ministrations,  —  what  is  this  but  a  token  of  the  rest, 
the  peace,  the  transporting  service  to  which  he  has  been  exalled  ? 
Be  this  the  comfort  of  that  venerated  and  beloved  parent.  Be 
this  also  our  comfort,  while  we  hasten  to  make  ourselves  ready, 
and  learn 

'  in  faith  to  muse 

How  grows  in  paradise  our  store.' " 

The  number  and  variety  of  similar  extracts  from  the  religious 
and  secular  publications  of  the  day  might  be  greatly  enlarged:  b' 
the  biographer  must  content  himself  with  the  following  b:  .  pas- 
sage from  the  New  York  Express.  With  reference  to  his  efforts  iu 
rearing  the  new  parish  in  Boston  of  which  he  was  rector,  the  ed- 
itor says,  — 

"  In  this  work  he  has  been  for  several  years  most  assiduously 
engaged,  and  his  labors  have  been  followed  with  the  most  encour- 
aging success.  These  labors  were  intense  and  unremitted,  and  wore 
greatly  upon  his  physical  strength.  They  were  not  only  those  of 
writing  and  preaching  sermons,  and  of  holding  two  services  every 
day,  but  those  also  of  parochial  visitation  and  ministration.  With 
the  great  end  of  his  anxious  hopes  and  earnest  toils  almost  fully 
realized,  and  while  actually  engaged  in  the  solemn  duties  of  his 
holy  office  in  the  church  he  had  reared  and  among  the  flock  he  had 
tended,  he  yielded  up  his  spirit  to  Him  who  gave  it,  and  cbanged 
his  ministry  from  earth  to  heaven.  Years  ago  he  wrote  these  lines 
upon  the  death  of  the  first  Christian  martyr,  Stephen.  How  has 
the  holy  prayer  they  breathed  been  answered  ! 


MEMOIR    OF   WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1851, 

'  To  us,  with  all  his  constancy, 

Be  his  rapt  vision  given, 
To  look  above  and  see 

Revealments  bright  of  heaven. 
And  power  to  speak  our  triumphs  out, 

As  our  last  hours  draw  near. 
While  neither  clouds  of  fear  or  doubt 

Before  our  view  appear.'  " 


CHRIST   CHURCH,  BOSTON. 

At  a  special  meeting  of  the  wardens  and  vestry  of  Christ  Church, 
held  in  the  vestry  room,  on  Monday  evening,  November  10,  1851, 
the  following  preamble  and  resolutions  were  unanimously  passed  :  — 

Forasmuch  as  it  has  pleased  Almighty  God,  in  his  providence, 
to  take  out  of  this  life  his  faithful  and  devoted  servant,  the  Rev. 
William  Ckoswell,  D.  D.,  rector  of  the  Church  of  the  Advent, 
and  sometime  rector  of  this  Church,  therefore,  — 

Resolved,  That,  while  we  bow  with  meek  submission  to  the  will 
of  our  heavenly  Father,  it  is  proper  that  we  should  mourn  for  our 
loss,  and  testify  to  the  feelings  of  sorrow  and  sadness  with  which 
this  sudden  and  afflictive  dispensation  has  filled  our  minds. 

Resolved,  That  the  virtues  of  this  faithful  soldier  and  servant  of 
Christ,  faithful  to  his  life's  end,  his  unassuming  worth,  the  consist- 
ency of  his  Christian  character,  his  fidelity  in  the  discharge  of  his 
dutift  as  a  Christian  minister  and  Christian  man,  his  kindness  to 
the  poor,  his  counsel  and  assistance  to  the  fatherless  and  widows, 
are  worthy  to  be  had  in  remembrance  by  us,  as  a  bright  example 
of  what  a  Christian  minister  ought  to  be. 

Resolved,  That  the  remembrance  of  the  kindness  with  which  he 
always  assisted  in  this  parisli,  during  the  late  vacancy  in  tlie  rector- 
ship, in  visiting  the  sick  and  dying,  and  performing  the  last  offices 
for  the  dead,  —  never  ofl^ering  an  excuse,  nor  delaying  a  moment 
when  called  upon,  —  endears  his  memory  to  us,  and  causes  us  to 
realize  that  a  faithful  servant  of  the  Church  has  been  removed,  who 
was  ever  ready  at  his  post,  and  that  we  have  indeed  lost  a  friend. 

Resolved,  That,  as  we  bow  with  submission  to  the  dispensation 
of  our  heavenly  Father,  we  bless  his  holy  name  that  we  mourn 
not  as  those  witliout  hope,  but  humbly  trust  that  it  may  be  so 
ordered  to  us  and  to  all  tiiat  its  suddenness  may  teach  us  to  appre- 
ciate the  shortness  and  uncertainty  of  human  life,  and  that  the  good 
example  of  our  departed  friend  may  teach  us  so  to  live  that  we 
may  be  prepared  to  die. 

Resolved,  That  we  sincerely  and  affectionately  sympathize  \>itlj 
the  bereaved  relations  of  the  deceased  in  their  affliction,  and  hiunbly 


18ol.]  TESTIMONIALS.  489 

trust  tlmt,  from  the  heavenly  source  so  often  pointed  out  hy  him 
we  now  mourn,  they  may  receive  consolation  in  their  bereavement. 

Resolved,  Tliat  the  rector,  wardens,  and  vestry  will  attend  the 
funeral  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Crosvvkll,  and  that  tiie  rector  and  wardens 
be  ret^uested  to  take  such  other  course  to  show  respect  to  his  mem- 
ory as  they  may  deem  proper. 

Resolved,  That  the  preamble  and  resolutions  be  entered  at  length 
upon  the  records  of  this  church,  and  that  copies  be  sent  to  the 
fiimily  of  our  deceased  friend,  and  especially  to  the  Rev.  Dr.  Cros- 
WELL,  of  New  Haven,  and  to  the  wardens  and  vestry  of  the  Church 
of  the  Advent. 

WILLIAM   T.  SMITHETT,  Chcdrman. 

Geo.  W,  Collamore,  Clerk. 

BISHOP   AND   CLERGY. 

At  a  meeting  of  the  Episcopal  clergy  of  the  city  of  Boston,  held 
at  the  residence  of  the  bishop  of  the  diocese,  on  Tuesday,  Novem- 
ber 11,  1851,  on  occasion  of  the  death  of  the  Rev.  W.  Croswell, 
D.  D.,  the  bishop  was  requested  to  take  the  chair,  and  the  Rev. 
Charles  Mason  was  appointed  secretary  ;  when  the  following  pre- 
amble and  resolutions  were  adopted  :  — 

Whereas  it  has  pleased  Almighty  God  suddenly  to  remove  from 
this  world  our  reverend  brother,  the  Rev.  William  Croswell, 
D.  D.,  rector  of  the  Church  of  the  Advent,  therefore,  — 

Resolved,  That  we  view,  in  this  startling  dispensation  of  Provi- 
dence, a  peculiarly  solemn  call  to  us  his  surviving  ministerial  breth- 
ren, to  increased  fidelity  in  the  preaching  of  the  word,  and  in  the 
discharge  of  all  the  high  responsibilities  committed  to  our  trust. 

Resolved,  That  we  cherish  a  pleasing  remembrance  of  the  per- 
sonal character  of  our  departed  brother;  of  the  accom|)lishments 
by  which  his  mind  was  adorned  ;  of  his  untiring  assiduity  in  the 
discharge  of  his  ministerial  labors ;   and  of  his  many  Christian  graces. 

Resolved,  That  we  sympathize  deeply  with  his  family  in  this 
their  sudden  bereavement,  and  that  our  prayers  shall  be  offered  on 
their  behalf,  that,  through  the  Holy  Spirit,  they  may  have  the  richest 
consolations  of  those  who  "sorrow  not  as  others  which  have  no  hope." 

Resolved,  That  a  copy  of  the  foregoing  preamble  and  resolutions 
be  transmitted  to  the  widow  and  family  of  our  dej)arted  brother  in 
the  ministry,  and  be  inserted  in  the  Christian  Witness. 

CHARLES     MASON,    Sectary. 

Parish  of  the  Advent,  Boston, 
Sundaij,  the  twenty-second  after  Tri/iifi/,  A.  ^     ^i^I. 
At  a  meeting   of  the   wardens   and  vestry,  liolden    at   the   church 
immediately    after    evening    service,    the    committee    appointed   to 
62 


490  MEMOIR   OF   WILLIAM    CROSWELL.  [1851 

proceed  to  New  Haven  in  com  pan}  with  the  body  of  tlie  late  rector 
of  this  parish,  the  Rev.  William  Croswell,  D.  D.,  and  to  attend 
to  its  interment  at  tliat  place,  reported,  that  they  had  discharged  the 
duty  assigned  to  them ;  the  body  having  been  buried  at  eleven 
o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  13th  of  November,  at  the  New  Ha- 
ven cemetery,  ^uleep  in  the  ground,''''  in  accordance  with  the  wishes 
of  the  deceased.  The  following  resolution  was  thereupon  adopted 
by  a  unanimous  vote,  and  entered  at  large  upon  the  record  :  — 

Resolved,  That  now,  for  the  first  time,  when  the  last  rites  have 
been  paid  to  the  mortal  remains  of  our  beloved  rector,  we  will 
strive  for  a  moment  to  control  our  grief,  and  to  give  expression,  ia 
some  feeble  degree,  to  what  no  ivords  can  measurabjy  eorjjress. 

Although  it  does  not  become  us  to  sorrow  as  others  which  have 
no  hope,  yet  we  cannot  beliold  the  desolation  of  our  house  of  prayer, 
and  remember  tlie  affliction  which  weighs  upon  the  family  of  our 
beloved  rector,  without  offering  to  them  the  testimony  of  our  sym- 
pathy and  condolence. 

We,  therefore,  the  Church  and  Congregation  whom  he  served,  are 
ready  to  bear  witness  concerning  our  brother  appointed  to  the 
Priesthood  over  us  :  — 

That  he  duly  exercised  his  ministry  to  the  honor  of 
God  and  the  edifying  of  his  Cinirch,  — 

That  he  considered  well  with  himself  the  end  of  his 
ministry  towards  the  children  of  God,  towards  the  Spouse  and 
Body  of  Christ, — 

That  he  never  ceased  his  labors,  his  care,  and  diligence, 
but  did  all  that  lay  in  him  to  bring  all  such  as  were  committed  to 
his  charge  unto  an  agreement  in  the  faith  and  knowledge  of  God, 
and  to  ripeness  and  perfectness  of  age  in  Christ,  — 

That  he  was  a  faithful  dispenser  of  the  word  of  God 
and  of  HIS  holy  sacraments,  — 

That,  without  preferring  one  before  another,  and  doing 
nothing  by  partiality,  he  did  not  shun  to  declare  unto  all,  high  and 
low,  rich  and  poor,  one  with  another,  the  ipJiole  counsel  of  God  — 
warning  us  that,  without  exemption  or  dispensation,  we  must  obey 
both  the  greatest  and  the  very  least  of  the  holy  commandments  of 
Jesus  Christ. 

And  now,  since  we,  among  whom  he  had  gone  preaching  the 
kingdom  of  God,  shall  see  his  face  on  earth  no  more,  we  take 
record  that  he  'is  pure  from  the  blood  of  all  men. 

We  remember  that,  by  the  space  of  seven  years,  he  ceased  not 
to  warn  every  one,  morning  and  evening,  with  his  prayers,  taking 
heed  unto  himself  and  to  all  the  flock  over  which  the  Holy  Ghost 
had  made  him  overseer,  feeding  the  Church  of  God,  which  he  hath 
purchased  with  his  own  blood. 

And  while  we  sorrow  most  of  all    for  the  words  which  we  must 


1851.]  TESTIMONIALS.  491 

speak,  —  "  we  shall  see  his  face  no  more,"  —  we  are  consoled  by 
the  ren)enibrance,  tliat,  tolieti  his  Lord  came,  he  was  found  watrhitig,  — 
as  one  that  icnitcth  for  his  Lord,  —  his  loi7is  girded  about  with  priestly 
robes,  and  the  spiritual  lights  of  his  ministration  burning;  and  we 
therefore  call  ajx^n  his  family  to  bow  with  us  in  humble  resignation 
to  the  mysterious  will  of  God,  and,  with  us,  to 

Bless  his  holy  name  for  all  his  servants  departed  this  life  in 
HIS  faith  and  fear,  beseeching  him  to  give  us  grace  so  to  follow 
their  good  examples,  that,  with  them,  we  may  be  partakers  of  his 
heavenly  kingdom.  Grant  this,  O  Father,  for  Jesus  Christ,  his 
sake,  our  only  Mediator  and  Advocate.      Amen. 

ST.   JOHN'S   CHURCH,   CHARLESTOWN. 
LETTER  TO  MRS.   CROSWELL. 

Charlestown,  De/'-ember  15,  1851. 
Dear   Madam:    Enclosed   you   will    please  find  a  copy  of  the 
resolves    passed    by  the   vestry   of  St.  John's   Church,  which   they 
have  directed  should  be  sent  to  you. 

In  the  recent  afflictive  dispensation  of  our  heavenly  Father  that 
removed  from  this  world  your  beloved  partner,  the  vestry  of  St. 
John's  Church  feel  that  they  too  have  lost  a  faithful  and  devoted 
friend.  Destitute  of  pastoral  supervision  and  care  during  the  past 
season,  the  hearts  of  our  people,  tried  by  sorrow  and  suffering, 
have  often  turned  to  him  for  sympathy  and  advice ;  and  though 
pressed  with  duties  incident  to  a  large  parish,  he  never  refused  our 
applications ;  but  again  and  again  has  he  been  with  us,  to  comfort 
the  sick  and  the  afflicted ;  and  six  times  within  as  many  months  has 
he  performed  for  members  of  our  congregation  the  last  sad  offices 
for  the  dead. 

Allow  us,  dear  madam,  to  extend  to  you  our  sympathies,  and 
with  you  mingle  our  sorrows  for  the  loss  of  our  good  friend:  and 
may  the  God  of  the  widow  be  ever  your  protector  and  stay  to 
your  life's  end. 

P.  HUBBELL, 
Li  belialf  of  the  Vestry  of  St.  John's  Cliurch. 

At  a  meeting  of  the  wardens  and  vestry  of  St.  John's  Cliurch, 
Charlestown,  held  in  the  vestry  room,  on  Monday  evening,  December 
15,  18.51,  the  following  was  submitted  to  the  consideration  of  the 
members  of  the  vestry,  and  unanimously  adopted:  — 

Whereas,  it  has  pleased  Almighty  God  suddenly  to  remove  from 
the  sphere  of  his  great  usefulness  on  earth  to  his  heavenly  rest  the 
Rev.  William  Croswell,  D.  D.,  late  rector  of  the  Church  of  the 
Advent  in  Boston,  we,  the  wardens  and  vestry  of  St.  John's  Church, 
Charlestown,  would  gratefully  acknowledge  our  many  obligations  to 


49-2  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROS^VELL.  [1851 

him  for  his  Christian  kindness  and  attention  to  this  parish  while 
destitute  of  a  pastor,  and  would  tender  to  his  bereaved  wife  and 
family  our  sympathy  for  tliem  in  their  present  hour  of  deep 
affliction. 

Voted,  That  the  clerk  be  directed  to  enter  the  above  upon  the 
record,  and  to  transmit  a  copy  thereof  to  the  family  of  the  de- 
ceased. 

SOCIETY  FOR  THE   RELIEF   OF  WIDOWS  AND   ORPHANS. 

TO  MRS.   CEOSWELL. 

BosTox,  December  3,  18-51. 

Madam  :  In  enclosing  to  you,  officially,  the  resolutions  of  the 
Society  for  the  Relief  of  the  Widows  and  Orphans  of  Clergymen, 
I  beg  to  add  my  own  expression  of  the  deep  sorrow  which  the 
event  to  which  they  refer  has  brought  to  my  heart.  I  have  lost 
from  my  side  my  near,  personal,  faithful  friend,  in  whose  atiection 
I  confided,  on  whose  judgment  I  constantly  relied,  and  wlio  was 
dear  to  me  by  the  memory  of  a  thousand  kind  acts. 

It  is  a  comfort  to  remember  such  a  man  as  he  was,  and  a  con- 
solation to  feel  how  beautiful  the  example  of  his  life,  even  to  its 
fitting  close. 

May  God  sustain,  comfort,  and  bless  you  in  this  trial,  is  the 
prayer  of  your  friend  and  servant, 

P.  H.  GREENLEAF. 

At  a  stated  meeting  of  the  Society  for  the  Relief  of  the  Widows 
and  Orphans  of  Deceased  Clergymen  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal 
Church,  held  at  Boston,  on  Monday,  December  1,  1851,  —  the  Right 
Rev.  the  Bishop  of  the  diocese  in  the  chair,  —  the  following  pre- 
amble and  resolutions  were  unanimously  adopted  :  — 

Whereas  it  has  pleased  Almighty  God,  in  his  wise  providence,  to 
remove  from  the  church  militant  here  on  earth  our  lamented  friend 
and  brother,  the  Rev.  William  Croswell,  D.  D.,  late  one  of  the 
trustees  of  this  society,  it  is  our  desire,  at  this  our  first  meeting 
since  his  decease,  to  place  upon  our  records  our  sorrowful  sense  of 
this  afflictive  dispensation  :  therefore,  — 

Resohed,  That  in  his  death  we  mourn  the  loss  of  a  brother  and 
fellow-laborer,  long  endeared  to  us,  as  members  of  this  society,  by 
the  wisdom  and  excellence  of  his  counsels ;  and  whose  faithful  and 
disinterested  labors  in  the  society,  from  the  first  day  of  its  organi- 
zation, merit  our  high  approval,  and  will  ever  be  remembered  by  us 
with  gratitude  and  affection. 

Resolved,  That,  in  the  sudden  and  unexpected  manner  in  which 
our  brother  was  called  from  among  us,  w-e  receive  the  admonition 
to   be   diligent  in    that    our    hands   find    to    do    for  the  widow  and 


1851.]  TESTIMONIALS.  493 

orphan,   and    to  follow  liini    in    his    labors  of  love  as    he    followed 
Christ. 

Resolved,  That  the  secretary  be  directed  to  enter  these  resolu- 
tions on  the  records,  and  to  transmit  a  copy  thereof  to  the  family 
of  the  deceased,  and  to  request  their  insertion  in  the  Christian 
Witness. 

BOSTON   EPISCOPAL   CHARITABLE   SOCIETY. 

TO  MRS.  CKOSWELL. 

Friday,  December  o,  1851. 
Madam  :  The  annexed  resolutions  were  passed  on  Thursday  last 
at  the  monthly  meeting  of  the  Board  of  Trustees  of  the  Boston 
Episcopal  Charitable  Society. 

Permit  me  to  add  the  expression  of  my  own  personal  esteem  of 
your  husband,  the  late  Rev.  Dr.  Croswell,  and  my  regret  at  the 
great  loss  we  have  all  met  with. 

With  respect,  yours, 

HENRY    BURROUGHS,  Secretary. 


Copy  from  the  Records  of  the  Boston   Episcopal  Charitable  Society, 
December  4,  1851. 

This  board,  since  its  last  meeting,  have  had  one  of  its  members, 
the  Rev.  William  Croswell,  D.  D.,  taken  from  its  midst  by  the 
sudden  stroke  of  death.  The  survivors  severally  recognize  the  pro- 
priety of  enduring  submissively  this  departure  of  their  associate  and 
friend ;  but  they  desire  to  record  their  affectionate  regard  for  their 
com[)anion  in  office,  and  their  participation  in  the  general  sorrow 
which  his  decease  has  produced.      Therefore,  — 

Resolved,  That  this  board  deeply  lament  the  rupture  of  official 
relations  with  an  associate  whose  ever  ready  and  efficient  aid  in  the 
execution  of  the  benevolent  designs  of  this  society  was  given  with 
intelligence,  zeal,  and  constancy ;  and  this  board  also  mourn  their 
privation  of  a  friend,  whose  guileless  spirit,  kindness  of  heart, 
Christian  graces,  with  a  pure  and  highly-cultivated  mind,  endeared 
him  to  all  who  knew  him,  and  prompted  and  enabled  him,  on  all 
occasions  and  under  all  circumstances,  to  be  what  he  seemed 
to  be. 

Resolved,  That  the  members  of  this  board  sincerely  sympathize 
with  the  relict  and  family  of  Dr.  Croswell,  and  offer  in  their  house 
of  mourning  unfeigned  condolence  in  the  distress  brought  upon 
them  by  Him  who  "  does  not  willingly  afflict  or  grieve  the  children 
of  men."  • 

Voted,  That  the  secretary  of  this  board  furnish  the  widow  of 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Croswell  with  a  copy  of  this  record. 


494  MEMOIK   OF  WILLIAM    CROSWELL.  [1851. 


SERMONS. 

On  the  Sunday  following  his  decease,  (the  twenty-second  after 
Trinity,)  being  the  16th  of  Novemlier,  the  Rev.  Titus  Strong,  D.  D., 
rector  of  St.  .Tames's  Church,  Greenfield,  preached  a  sermon  in  the 
Church  of  the  Advent,  which  was  subsequently  published  by  request 
of  the  wardens  and  vestry.  Dr.  Strong  had  been  long  esteemed  and 
venerated  by  the  deceased,  and  they  had  lived  on  terms  of  great 
intimacy  and  affection  for  many  years.  In  the  subjoined  extracts 
from  this  sermon,  therefore,  we  are  giving  the  testimony  of  one 
whose  well-known  candor  and  integrity  would .  forbid  the  idea  that 
even  the  warm-hearted  partiality  of  a  friend  could  be  suffered  to 
warp  his  judgment,  or  give  an  undue  coloring  to  his  representations. 
Taking  for  his  text  the  language  of  the  evangelist  in  commendation 
of  the  faithful  and  devoted  gospel  laborer  Barnabas,  —  "  He  was  a 
good  ?iian,"  (Acts  xi.  24,)  —  he  proceeds,  after  a  snitable  explanatory 
introduction,  to  portray  the  characteristics  of  what  may  be  called, 
in  the  gospel  sense  of  the  term,  a  good  man.  In  this  delineation 
he  enumerates  some  of  the  most  prominent  and  striking  qualities 
which  constitute  the  character  of  the  good  man,  and  then  applies 
the  whole  to  his  deceased  friend  :  — 

"  Because,"  he  proceeds,  "  they  were  all  so  beautifully  and  har- 
moniously exhibited  in  the  life  of  our  departed  brother,  whose 
sudden  decease  has  spread  a  mantle  of  gloom  over  this  church  and 
congregation,  and  filled  the  hearts  of  many  friends  with  sadness 
and  sorrow.  They  furnish,  too,  a  source  of  consolation  and  sub- 
mission to  the  will  of  God,  inasmuch  as  they  warrant  the  belief 
that,  in  the  adoption  of  such  graces  and  attainments,  he  has  gained, 
through  the  merits  of  the  Savior,  a  fitness  for  the  inheritance  of 
the  everlasting  kingdom  ;  and  that  he  has  been  summoned  away 
from  the  associations  and  responsibilities,  the  duties,  the  cares,  and 
the  trials  of  earth  to  the  rest  and  glory  of  heaven.  In  cultivating 
the  virtues  of  the  Christian  spirit,  his  labor  has  not  been  in  vain  in 
the  Lord.  He  exemplified  in  his  daily  walk  and  conversation  all 
that  was  excellent  and  lovely  in  our  holy  religion.  He  was  faithful 
unto  death,  and  his  reward  is  a  crown  of  life.  He  had  completed 
the  work  that  was  given  him  to  do  ;  and  with  his  armor  on,  and 
at  the  altar  of  his  God,  he  received  the  message  that  required  of 
him  an  account  of  his  stewardship.  That  account,  we  doubt  not, 
has  been  rendered  with  joy,  and  not  with  grief;  and  in  the  blessed 
communion  of  saints,  connecting  in  one  body  the  Church  on  earth 
and  the  assembly  of  the  just  made  pei  '>ct  in  hfeaven,  he  is  hence- 
forth to  be  continually  employed,  with  So-nts  and  martyrs,  with 
angels  and  archangels,  with  cherubim  and   seraphim,  in  ascribing 


1851.]  TESTDIONIALS.  495 

glory,  and  honor,  riches,  dominion,  and  power  to  Him  that  sitteth 
upon  the  throne,  and  to  the  Lamb  tliat  was  slain.  I  mi|i;ht,  on  the 
present  occasion,  speak  to  you  of  his  distinguished  and  varied  ex- 
cellences as  a  man,  of  his  acquirements  as  a  scholar,  of  the  aftahility 
of  his  manners,  and  the  mildness  of  his  disposition,  of  the  brilliancy 
of  his  genius,  the  outpourings  of  his  benevolence,  and  his  integrity 
in  all  the  relations  of  life.  I  might  recall  to  your  remembrance  his 
wisdom  in  counsel,  his  prudence  in  action,  the  warmth  and  fidelity 
of  his  friendsliip,  his  sympathy  with  the  afflicted  and  the  desolate, 
his  love  of  peace,  and  all  those  nameless  attractions  which  made  his 
presence  every  where  so  delightful,  and  which  won  for  him,  almost 
involuntarily,  the  dearest  affections  of  all  who  knew  him  ;  and  a 
thousand  trembling  voices,  and  as  many  bleeding  hearts,  would  bear 
witness  to  the  truth  of  all  that  might  be  said  in  his  praise.  But  it 
is  better  for  us  to  dwell  upon  his  character  as  unfolded  in  the  sub- 
ject of  our  meditations,  to  look  upon  his  course  of  faith,  and  prayer, 
and  piety,  to  trace  his  progress  as  a  servant  and  soldier  of  the  cross, 
view  him  in  his  conflict  with  sin  and  with  Satan,  and  to  follow  him 
on,  through  every  change  of  labor  and  of  trial,  to  the  completion  of 
the  victory  that  has  made  him  a  pillar  in  the  temple  of  his  God, 
where  he  shall  go  no  more  out. 

"  I  know  well  how  great  is  the  loss  of  one  so  gifted,  so  eminent, 
and  so  useful  to  every  circle  with  which  he  was  associated.  His 
writings,  though  not  as  numerous  as  his  friends  could  have  wished, 
have,  nevertheless,  extended  his  reputation  throughout  our  land, 
and  caused  his  name  in  distant  climes  to  be  enrolled  with  the  names 
of  Herbert,  and  Heber,  and  Reble.  And,  but  for  his  gentle  and  re- 
tiring nature,  he  would  long  since  have  shone  among  the  brightest 
stars  of  our  literary  firmament. 

"  As  a  theologian,  his  reading  was  extensive,  his  acquirements 
were  practical,  and  his  judgment  was  most  sound  and  enHghtened. 
But  it  was  chiefly  in  the  duties  of  the  parish  that  he  excelled.  And 
you,  my  brethren,  can  never  forget  the  interest  that  he  has  mani- 
fested in  your  welfare,  the  solicitude  and  earnestness  with  which 
he  has  endeavored  to  guide  your  feet  into  the  pastures  of  salvation, 
and  beside  the  living  waters  that  flow  from  beneath  the  tree  of 
life.  He  has,  with  great  diligence  and  disinterestedness,  been  in 
and  out  before  you  as  a  faitiiful  minister  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
coveting  no  man's  silver  or  gold,  and  not  counting  his  life  dear  unto 
him,  so  that  he  might  finish  his  course  with  joy.  He  was,  indeed,  a 
burning  and  a  shining  light ;  and,  for  a  season,  you  have  been  per- 
mitted to  rejoice  in  that  light.  Alas  that  it  should  be  so  suddenly 
extinguished  !  Extinguished  ?  Not  so.  It  has  been  removed  into 
a  higher  and  hoher  temple,  where  it  will  shine  with  increasing  lustre 
through  the  countless  ages  of  eternity.  God  grant  that  you  may  be 
enabled  to  appreciate  the  beams  that  have  already  fallen  from  it  upon 


496  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [185L 

your  paths,  and  be  led  by  their  histre  through  the  duties  and  the 
changes  of  life,  and  the  gloom  that  rests  upon  the  valley  of  the 
shadow  of  death,  to  the  renewal  of  your  intercourse  in  the  mansion? 
of  immortal  bliss. 

"I  need  not  say  how  dear  he  was  to  his  friends,  how  precious  t:i 
them  in  the  remembrance  of  his  virtues  and  his  love,  and  how  ten- 
derly and  affectionately  they  will  cherish  his  memory.  He  has  lei't 
them  the  rich  legacy  of  his  example  ;  and  they  will  reckon  it  anion  v 
their  highest  privileges  that  ihey  were  deemed  worthy  of  his  confi- 
dence and  esteem. 

"  I  know  not  how  to  allude  to  the  affliction  that  has  fallen  upon 
the  scene  of  domestic  love  and  peace.  Blessed  be  God,  the  conso- 
lations of  the  gospel  are  with  the  bereaved  and  the  saddened  heart. 
The  venerable  parents,  —  the  attached  brothers,  —  the  downcast 
widow  and  the  fatherless  child,  —  with  connections  and  friends 
most  dear  and  intimate,  —  we  commend  them  to  the  grace  of  God, 
which  can  alone  comfort  and  sustain  them.  He  who  casts  down 
can  lift  up  again  ;  he  who  wounds  can  heal ;  and  to  every  son  and 
daughter  of  adversity  the  glorious  assurance  is  given  that  all  things 
shall  work  together  for  good  to  them  that  love  God. 

"  The  dispensation  of  divine  Providence  which  we  are  c'alled 
upon  to  improve  speaks  most  impressively  to  the  ministers  of  the 
everlasting  gospel ;  it  bids  them  be  instant,  in  season  and  out  of 
season,  watching  for  souls  as  men  that  must  give  account.  It  de- 
mands of  them  increased  diligence  in  their  work,  more  fervent 
prayer  and  self-denial,  a  fuller  and  deeper  renunciation  of  the  world 
and  its' vanities,  and  a  stronger  desire  to  be  made  instruments  in 
leading  iTien  to  Christ.  Our  brethen,  in  quick  succession,  are 
passing  away  from  us.  The  most  brilliant  and  the  most  useful  are 
continually  leaving  the  scene  of  their  labors  in  the  Church  below, 
and  taking  their  place  with  the  white-robed  worshippers  that  bow 
before  the  throne.  Our  tears  still  fall  for  the  men  that  stood  as 
pillars  in  the  temple  of  the  IMost  High  :  Jarvis,  and  Ogilby,  and 
Boyle,  —  they  have  but  just  gone  to  their  reward,  and  the  kindred 
spirit  of  Croswell  now  joins  them. 

"  For  you,  my  venerable  friend  and  brother,*  —  the  friend  and 
brother,  through  many  vicissitudes,  of  forty  years, — the  present  is 
a  season  of  no  common  calamity.  He  upon  whom  you  have  leaned 
only  as  we  are  allowed  to  lean  upon  an  arm  of  flesh,  with  whom 
you  have  taken  so  much  sweet  counsel,  and  walked  in  the  house  of 
God  in  company,  has  fallen  at  your  side,  and  first  begun  the  march 
of  eternity.     But  God,  his  God  and  your  God,  still  remains.     He 

*  The  Rev.  Asa  Eaton,  D.  D.,  formerly  rector  of  Christ  Church,  in  Boston, 
and  long  an  attendant  upon  the  ser-sdces  (and  a  frequent  assistant  in  the  same) 
in  the  Church  of  the  Advent :  he  was  present  when  the  blow  came  which 
terminated  the  life  of  his  beloved  friend  and  brother. 


1851.]  TESTIMONIALS.  4^7 

will  be  your  comforter  and  supporter  when  earthly  comforts  and 
supports  fail.  He  will  guide  and  defend  you  through  the  remainder 
of  your  i)ilgrimage  ;  and,  gided  by  his  grace,  so  long  your  shield 
and  defence,  you  will  see  again  the  loved  ones  who  have  gone  be- 
fore you  to  the  realms  of  light  and  life. 

"  Brethren  and  friends,  beloved  in  the  Lord,  we  are  placed  in  a 
changing  and  a  transitory  world.  The  most  cherished  associations 
of  life  are  ever  subject  to  dissolution.  Our  fathers,  —  where  are 
they  1  and  the  prophets,  —  do  they  live  forever  1  The  parent  and 
the  child,  the  ruler  and  the  subject,  the  teacher  and  the  taught,  are 
alike  hastening  on  to  the  unseen  world.  But  a  few  days,  and  this 
whole  generation  will  have  passed  away.  Other  forms  will  be  seen 
in  our  places,  and  dift'erent  voices  will  be  heard  in  our  dwellings 
and  our  streets.  Whatsoever,  therefore,  our  hands  find  to  do,  let 
us  do  it  with  our  might ;  for  there  is  no  knowledge  nor  device  in 
the  grave  whither  we  go.  Let  us  work  while  it  is  day ;  for  the 
night  Cometh  in  which  no  man  can  work.  And  may  God  Al- 
mighty give  us  grace  to  improve  all  events,  whether  of  good  or  of 
evil,  in  such  a  manner  that  they  may  contribute  to  our  preparatiojis 
for  die  mysteries  of  an  unseen  world  and  an  eternal  existence." 

On  the  same  day  a  sermon  was  preached  in  St.  Paul's  Church, 
Boston,  by  the  rector,  the  Rev.  Alexander  H.  Vinton,  D.  D.,  and 
published  by  request  of  the  parish.  This  was  an  act  of  pure  mag- 
nanimity ;  as  it  was  entirely  voluntary  and  unsolicited,  and,  as  he 
himself  intimates,  could  not  have  been  claimed  on  the  ground  of 
any  particular  intimacy  between  himself  and  the  deceased.  Indeed, 
it  was  well  known  that  they  differed  materially  in  opinion  on  some 
points  of  theology.  Hence  we  record  this  testimony  with  the  more 
gratification.  The  sermon  is  entitled,  "  The  Translation  of 
Elijah  ; "  and  is  founded  on  2  Kings  ii.  12.  The  opening  ideas 
are  so  happily  conceived,  and  so  beautifully  expressed,  that  we  can- 
not deny  ourselves  the  pleasure  of  copying  them  in  full  :  — 

" '  My  father,  mi/  father,  the  chariot  of  Israel  and  the  horsemen 
thereof  This  is  a  cry  of  sudden  and  sublime  amazement.  The 
event  connected  with  it  was  one  of  two  or  three  such  as  the  world 
has  never  seen  besides.  It  was  the  translation  of  the  prophet  Eli- 
jah, when  he  was  lifted  suddenly  away  from  the  earth,  to  inherit  im- 
mortality without  its  usual  antecedent  death.  The  lot  of  all  common 
men  is,  after  the  separation  of  soul  and  flesh,  to  live  disembodied 
till  the  resurrection.  It  seems,  however,  to  have  been  tiie  divine 
pleasure  to  select  a  favored  few  to  anticipate  that  period ;  to  spare 
them  the  pain  and  faintness  of  the  death  bed,  the  darkness  of  the 
tomb,  and  the  dissolving  of  the  flesh,  and  to  receive  them,  soul  and 
flesh  immortalized  at  once,  into  his  glory.  So  far  as  we  can  mark 
63 


498  ^lEMUlR   OF   WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1851. 

this  distinctioHj  it  has  been  conferred  on  those  who  stand  out  in  the 
sacred  history  as  chiefs  and  leaders  in  the  several  divine  dispensa- 
tions to  man.  In  the  patriarchal  age,  Enoch  is  distinguished  as 
most  eminent  for  his  saintly  life  ;  and  when  he  had  '  walked  with 
God '  for  three  hundred  years,  at  a  time  when  man's  youth  was 
older  than  our  longevity,  then,  in  the  prime  of  his  manhood,  he 
suddenly  '  was  not,  for  God  took  him.' 

"  In  the  second  age,  Moses  was  the  leader  of  a  new  dispensation, 
and  his  departure  was  attended  by  circumstances  so  mysterious  as 
to  suggest  the  thought  of  a  translation  rather  than  a  decease  ;  for 
although  it  is  said  that  Moses  died,  yet  it  is  likewise  added  that 
'  God  buried  him,'  and  that  the  place  of  his  sepulture  was  never 
found.  May  not  the  statement  that  no  man  knew  his  grave,  coupled 
with  the  remarkable  expression  which  precedes  it,  warrant  the  con- 
clusion that  he  died  merely  in  appearance,  that  is,  he  disappeared 
forever  from  human  eyes  1  Man  buries  his  dead  in  darkness,  and 
dust,  and  decay  ;  but  where  is  (iod's  burial-place,  if  not  in  the  depths 
of  uncreated  light  1  And  what  is  his  manner  of  burial,  if  it  be  not 
translation  ?  On  this  account,  with  others,  many  have  supposed 
that  the  great  chief  of  the  Jewish  dispensation  was  gathered,  not 
to  his  fathers,  but  to  the  hosts  above  who  never  die.  Something 
like  this  may  be  said  of  Him,  the  Lord  of  this  last  and  best  dis- 
pensation —  the  Lord  whose  name  we  bear,  to  whose  glory  we  look. 
For  although  the  death  of  Jesus  was  a  literal  separation  of  the 
spirit  from  the  flesh,  yet  it  was  impossible  he  could  be  holden  of 
death ;  and  when  the  transient  estrangement  was  over,  he  trod  the 
earth  again  with  a  living  human  frame  ;  and  when,  at  length,  he  en- 
tered into  his  glory,  and  was  buried  from  human  eyes  in  a  cloud  of 
light,  it  was  a  translation  of  both  soul  and  body  to  the  immortality 
of  heaven. 

"  The  prophet  Elijah  was  the  chief  of  a  dispensation  which,  though 
subordinate  to  the  others,  was  in  its  place  indispensable,  and  no  less 
divine.  He  was  the  great  representative  of  the  prophetic  office. 
Reared  in  Israel,  in  a  time  of  fearful  defection  of  morals  and  of 
apostasy  from  the  truth,  he  was  the  expounder  of  the  divine  will, 
the  stern  rebuker  of  iniquity  in  high  places.  He  seemed  to  stand 
amidst  the  wickedness  that  surged  around  him  like  a  beacon  light 
in  the  sea.  He  repelled  the  tide  of  sins,  and  warned  the  careless 
sinner,  always  immovable,  always,  clear  and  true.  When  this  re- 
markable person  had  fulfilled  his  ministry,  he  selected,  by  divine 
direction,  for  his  successor,  Elisha,  who  became,  for  a  time,  his  dis- 
ciple and  friend.  These  two  were  walking  together  on  the  day 
when  it  had  been  revealed  to  them  that  Elijah  was  to  be  taken 
away.  And  as  they  went  on  and  talked,  while  a  large  number 
of  the  sons  of  the  prophets  stood  upon  a  neighboring  height  to 
watch  the  issue,  there  appeared  a  chariot  of  fire  and  horses  of  fire, 


1851]  TESTBIONIAI.S.  499 

or,  as  some  interpret  it,  a  band  of  shining  angels,  which  passed  be- 
tween them  and  parted  them  asunder,  and  Ehjah  went  up  by  a 
whirlwind  into  heaven.  Elisha  saw  it,  and  the  overwhelming  char- 
av^er  of  the  bereavement  seems  to  have  amazed  him.  He  felt  the 
mighty  loss  t6  the  cause  of  God  and  to  his  own  people.  The  strength 
of  Israel  was  departing  with  the  ascending  prophet.  Wondering, 
feamg,  and  yet,  no  doubt,  exulting  with  a  triumph  caught  from  this 
subli'.ne  transaction,  he  cries  with  a  sort  of  bewildered  enthusiasm 
of  grief  and  glory,  '  My  father,  my  father,  the  chariot  of  Israel 
and  the  horsemen  thereof!'  Thus  was  Elijah  translated,  that  he 
should  not  see  death,  and  carried  bodily  to  heaven." 

This  introduction  is  followed  by  a  few  obvious  remarks,  suggest- 
ed by  the  history,  viz.,  1.  The  first  impression  forced  on  the  mind 
of  Elisha  of  the  suddenness  of  his  bereavement.  2.  The  greatness 
of  the  change  that  came  upon  the  prophet.  3.  His  being  called  to 
his  glory  not  only  in  the  meridian  of  his  usefulness,  but  in  the  very 
act  of  usefulness.      And  then  the  preacher  concludes  :  — 

"  My  brethren,  I  scarcely  need  say  that  my  thoughts  have  been 
led  to  this  subject  by  an  event,  which,  since  we  last  met  together 
here,  has  startled  and  subdued  so  many  minds  of  this  community. 
The  decease  of  a  man  and  a  minister  like  the  Rev.  William  Cros- 
WELL  might,  at  any  time,  occasion  a  wide  lamentation.  With  a 
character  to  win  the  respect  of  the  distant  and  the  love  of  the  near,  he 
was,  personally  and  professionally,  a  man  of  rare  and  exalted  value. 

"  I  could  not,  if  it  were  called  for,  delineate  him  so  minutely 
as  others  who  enjoyed  more  of  his  intimacy.  Yet  I  knew  him 
well  enough  to  feel  the  bond  of  personal  and  Christian  kindness 
wearing  itself  into  my  heart,  where  the  feeling  still  lives,  a  remem- 
bered affection,  full  of  sacred  worth. 

"  His  general  character  is  known  to  you  as  one  which,  while  it 
was  rich  with  the  refinements  of  mind  and  feeling,  was  still  a  char- 
acter of  strength  and  steadfastness.  He  was  steadfast  in  principle, 
and  so  in  practice ;  strong  in  affection,  and  likewise  in  conscience  ; 
always  gentle,  but  never  weak  ;  with  as  much  of  tenderness  as  could 
consist  with  so  much  of  courage.  Patient  he  was,  exceedingly  ;  yet 
much  more  than  manly  in  his  patience,  for  he  was  devoutly  Chris- 
tian. And  as  these  qualities  worked  out  into  his  professional  life, 
they  rendered  him  eminent  for  his  practical  benevolence,  and  for 
unwavering  fidelity  to  the  duties  of  his  calling.  Such  as  he  was, 
he  was  cut  down  in  the  ripeness  of  his  days ;  and  his  death,  so  pecu- 
liar, was  nearest  to  a  translation.  It  was  sudden,  almost  as  if  he 
had  been  rapt  away  by  a  rush  of  angels.  Although  there  was  more 
than  one  previous  circumstance,  which,  from  their  correspondence 
with  the  event,  now  seem  almost  like  the  premonition  to  Elisha,  — 


500  MEMOIR   OF  \VILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1851. 

'  Kjiowest  thou  the  Lord  will  take  away  thy  head  to-day?  ' — still 
it  was  sudden.  The  change,  we  cannot  doubt,  was  great  and 
glorious ;  from  a  life,  with  some  of  whose  trials  he  had  been  sadly 
familiar,  to  another  life  in  God's  paradise,  where  his  soul,  swelling 
with  the  Savior's  peace,  remembers  the  wormwood  and  the  gall  no 
more.  He  was  taken,  too,  at  his  post  of  labor  and  duty.  His 
day's  work  as  a  prophet  of  God  was  just  closed.  His  last  teaching 
was  to  the  children  of  his  flock  ;  and  while  the  words  of  instruction 
were  yet  warm,  and  the  benediction  trembled  on  his  lips,  the  blow 
of  grace  fell,  and  they  saw  him  no  more  living. 

"  After  the  first  shock  and  astoundment  of  grief,  there  seems  a 
sort  of  splendor  investing  such  a  death.  We  almost  covet  the 
glory.  Conscience,  humility,  hope,  faith  could  ask  no  more  than  to 
be  found  at  the  post  of  sacred  duty,  and  to  go  from  prayer  to  praise. 
It  is  the  death  our  departed  brother  would  have  wished  to  die ; 
and,  with  the  grief  it  leaves  behind,  there  is  a  feeling  of  holy  ex 
ultation  at  witnessing  so  worthy  a  fulfilment  of  his  saintly  wish 
We,  like  the  sons  of  the  prophets  who  watched  the  translation  of 
Elijah,  behold  it  from  our  distance  in  sdent  awe.  But  there  is  the 
parish  from  whom  God  has  taken  away  its  head ;  there  are  the 
children  who  were  blessed  with  liis  last  teaching.  They  may  well 
cry  out  after  him,  as  he  has  ascended,  '  My  father,  my  father,  the 
chariot  of  Israel  and  the  horsemen  thereof! ' 

"  My  brethren,  while  our  Christian  sympathy  flows  out  to  the 
bereaved,  may  the  life  of  our  brother  be  an  example,  and  his  death 
an  admonition  to  us,  to  untiring  faithfulness  in  the  work  of  God." 

Among  this  class  of  testimonials,  we  must  not  fail  to  record  one, 
which,  for  earnest  truthfulness,  is  not  surpassed  by  any  other.  It  is 
from  the  Rev.  E.  M.  P.  Wells,  of  St.  Stephen's  House,  Boston, 
missionary  to  the  poor,  being  the  conclusion  of  his  last  annual 
report,  under  date  of  Advent  eve,  November  29,  1851  :  — 

"  And  now,  father,  brothers,  friends,  there  is  a  shade  of  sadness 
on  the  face — a  tear  in  the  eye  —  a  cold  spot  in  the  heart  where 
death  has  put  his  finger  —  for  he  hath  taken  away  our  brother. 
Excuse  the  selfishness  of  my  sorrow  in  saying  my  brother,  my  fel- 
low-laborer to  the  poor.  How  they  loved  him  !  because  he  was 
like  his  Master.  They  felt  it,  even  though  they  thought  not  of  the 
origmal.  But  it  was  so  ;  'twas  of  Him  he  had  learned  to  'be  pitiful, 
be  courteous '  to  the  poorest,  the  humblest.  How  hard  it  is  to  be 
like  him,  so  true,  so  simplf  in  doing  good  !  The  distance  was  never 
too  great  for  him  to  go  to  do  good  for  Christ's  sake  —  the  storm 
was  never  too  severe  for  him  to  find  his  way  through  it.  to  relieve 
a  tossed  and  beaten  sufferer  —  the  night  was  never  too  late,  nor  too 


1851.]  TESTIMOXIALS.  501 

dark,  for  him  to  find  Iiis  way  to  bear  the  cross  with  its  consolations 
to  the  bed  of  death. 

"  In  his  death,  our  society  has  lost  the  last  of  its  original  life 
members,  and  the  poor  have  lost  a  Croswell. 

"Farewell,  brother!  I  see,  in  the  path  of  thy  beautiful  exodus, 
the  light  of  thy  example  lingering  bright  like  a  milky  way  in  the 
spiritual  sky." 

On  the  7th  of  December,  the  second  Sunday  in  Advent,  the  Right 
Rev.  Bishop  Doane,  at  the  request  of  the  wardens  and  vestry,  de- 
livered a  discourse  in  the  Church  of  the  Advent,  commemorative  of 
the  late  rector.  This  discourse  was  published  in  a  pamphlet  form, 
and  was  also  inserted  in  the  ensuing  number  of  the  Church  Review, 
and  had  an  extensive  circulation  throughout  the  cotmtry.  We  have 
already  freely  availed  ourselves  of  some  interesting  facts  and  state- 
ments from  this  most  able  and  characteristic  discourse  ;  but  there 
are  still  some  portions  of  it,  which  so  truly  depict  the  life  and 
character  of  the  deceased, — by  the  hand  of  one  who  knew  him,  we 
will  venture  to  say,  better  than  any  other  man, — that  our  work 
might  be  deemed  incomplete  without  them. 

Prefixed  to  this  discourse  are  the  following  beautiful  stanzas, 
written,  as  it  will  be  seen  by  the  date,  on  the  day  after  the  death  of 
this  "  next  friend  and  more  than  brother."  These  lines  have  already 
appeared  in  several  periodicals,  and  are  doubtless  familiar  to  many 
friends  ;  but  we  cannot  deny  ourselves  the  pleasure  of  giving  them 
a  permament  place  in  these  pages :  — 


WILLIAM    CROSWELL: 

POET,  PASTOR,  PRIEST; 

ENTERED    INTO    LIFE,  SUNDAY,  NINTH    NOVEMBER,  (tWENTY-FIRST   AFTER   TRINITY,) 
MDCCCIil. 

I  DID  not  think  to  number  thee,  my  Croswell,  with  the  dead,* 
But  counted  on  thy  loving  lips  to  soothe  my  dying  bed. 
To  watch  the  fluttering  flood  of  life  ebb  languidly  away, 
And  point  my  spirit  to  the  gate  that  opens  into  day. 

My  "  more  than  brother  "  thou  hast  been  for  five  and  twenty  years, 
In  storm  and  shine,  in  grief  and  joy,  alike  in  smiles  and  tears  ; 
Our  twin-born  hearts  so  perfectly  incorporate  in  one, 
That  not  the  shadow  of  a  thought  e'er  marred  their  unison. 

*  The  Friday  before  was  his  forty- seventh  buthday. 


502  MEMOm  OF  WILLIAM    CROSWELL.  [185L 

Beside  me,  in  life's  highest  noon,  to  hear  the  bridegroom's  voice 
Thy  loving  nature  fondly  stood,  contented  to  rejoice ; 
Nor  boon,  that  ever  bounteous  Heaven  bestowed  on  me  or  mine. 
But  bore  for  thee  a  keener  joy  than  if  it  had  been  thine. 

Thy  fingers,  at  the  sacred  font,  when  God  my  hearth  had  blessed. 
Upon  my  first-born's  brow  the  dear  baptismal  rite  impressed  ; 
My  second  born,  thine  own  in  Christ,  our  loving  names  to  blend, 
And  knit  for  life  his  father's  son  in  with  his  father's  friend. 

And  when  our  patriarchal  White,  with  apostolic  hands, 
Committed  to  my  trembling  trust  the  Savior's  dread  commands. 
Thy  manly  form  *  and  saintly  face  were  at  my  side  again  — 
Thy  voice  a  trumpet  to  my  heart,  in  its  sincere  Amen. 

Beside  thee  once  again  be  mine,  accepted  priest,  to  stand 

And  take  with  thee  the  pastoral  palm  from  that  dear  Shepherd's  hand, 

As  thou  hast  followed  Him,  be  mine  in  love  to  follow  thee. 

Nor  care  how  soon  my  course  be  run,  so  thine  my  rest  may  be. 

O  beautiful  and  glorious  death !  with  all  thy  armor  on ;  f 
While,  Stephen-like,  thy  placid  face  out,  like  an  angel's,  shone.| 
The  words  of  blessing  §  on  thy  lips  had  scarcely  ceased  to  sound 
Before  thy  gentle  soul  with  them  its  resting-place  had  found. 

O  pastoral  and  priestly  death  !  poetic  as  thy  life  — 
A  little  child  to  shelter  in  Christ's  fold  from  sin  and  strife ;  || 
Then,  by  the  gate  that  opens  through  the  cross  for  such  as  she,1I 
To  enter  in  thyself,  with  Christ  forevermore  to  be  ! 

G.  W.  D. 
RiTEiisiDE,  lOtk  November,  1851. 


Among  the  biographical  sketches,  which  constitute  a  considerable 
portion  of  this  discourse,  the  following  is  valuable,  as  throwing  much 
light  on  the  character  and  ministrations  of  the  deceased:  — 

*  «'  lu  person,  Dr.  Ceoswell  was  a  very  pattern  of  manly  beauty."  —  Bos- 
ton Evening  Traveler. 

t  The  epistle  for  the  day  contained-  St.  Paul's  graphic  description  of  "  the 
whole  armor  of  God."     His  last  words,  in  giving  out  the  hymn,  were,  — 

"  Soldiers  of  Chiist,  arise 
And  put  your  armor  on." 

I  "  He  never  looked  so  heavenly.  His  smile  upon  the  infant  was  ineffable 
in  sweetness."  —  MS.  Letter. 

§  Unable  to  rise  after  the  closing  coUect,  he  said  the  benediction  on  his 
knees.     He  died  in  two  hours.     A  blood  vessel  was  ruptured  in  his  brain. 

II  He  had  just  baptized  an  infant ;  and  his  sermon  was  addressed  to  children. 
H  "  Suffer  little  children  to  come  unto  me,  and  forbid  them  not ;  for  of  such 

is  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 


1851.]  TESTIMONIALS.  503 

"  Four  years  he  ministerecb  as  rector  of  St.  Peter's  Church, 
Auburn,  earnestly,  faithfully,  most  acceptably,  and  most  successfully. 
But  Boston  had  been  the  scene  of  the  labors  of  his  earliest  love. 
His  tastes  and  habits  inclined  him  to  a  city  life.  The  bonds  of 
nature  drew  this  way.  And  more  than  all,  his  heart  was  yearning,' 
to  dissolve  itself  upon  a  ministry  among  the  poor.  It  was  no  recent 
passion.  It  was  the  sacred  fancy  of  his  youth.  Hours  and  hours 
had  we  discoursed  of  it  together.  His  labors,  while  connected  with 
Christ  Church,  had  partaken  largely  of  that  character.  He  had 
been  every  body's  minister,  that  had  no  other.  He  had  qualified 
himself  to  be  the  servant  of  Christ's  poor  ;  and,  in  his  yearning 
nature,  he  could  brook  no  other  service." 

After  giving  a  detailed  account  of  the  organization  of  the  Church 
of  the  Advent,  the  settlement  of  the  rector,  and  the  unparalleled  suc- 
cess of  the  enterprise,  as  shown  by  the  official  statistics,  the  discourse 
proceeds : — 

"These  are  encouraging  statistics.  This  is  a  wonderful  result. 
It  is  an  enterprise  perplexed  by  hinderances.  There  is  the  prejudice 
against  it  that  it  is  new,  when,  in  fact,  it  is  the  apostolic  way. 
And  there  are  private  personal  prejudices,  of  pride,  of  selfishness, 
of  incredulity,  of  inexperience,  of  settled  habit.  I  never  knew  a 
man  that  was  so  well  fitted  to  contend  with  all  these  prejudices  and 
overcome  them.  In  the  first  place,  he  was  filled  full  with  the  spirit 
of  Christ.  He  was,  emphatically,  '  a  man  of  loves.'  His  heart  was 
large  enough  to  take  in  all  the  world.  His  generosity  was  un- 
bounded. .  .  .  And  his  kindness  was  as  considerate  and 
delicate,  in  all  its  details,  as  it  was  boundless  in  its  comprelicnsion. 
He  knew  the  very  thing  to  do,  the  very  word  to  say,  the  very  time 
and  place  to  do  it  and  to  say  it.  And  of  this  discriminating  propri- 
ety, the  poor  have  a  most  keen  and  accurate  perception.  And  his 
faith  was  equal  with  his  love.  He  was  certain  that  it  was  the  ancient 
way,  and  must  be  right.  With  such  a  confidence,  he  could  atFord 
to  wait.  He  did  not  fix  the  time  for  his  results.  He  would  go  on, 
and  find  them  when  they  came.  Then  he  was  wonderful  in  his 
humility.  He  esteemed  every  other  better  than  himself  He  cared 
not  what  the  service  was,  so  he  could  do  it ;  or  for  whom  it  was, 
so  it  would  be  received.  And  from  his  humility  there  sprang  a 
beautiful  simplicity,  which  was  a  letter  of  universal  commendation. 
He  was  a  gentleman  not  only,  but  the  gentlest  man.  No  man  ever 
was  more  acceptable  to  the  refined  and  intellectual.  No  man  had 
ever  easier  access  to  the  poor,  the  ignorant,  the  vicious,  tlie  de- 
graded. He  won  their  confidence  at  once.  And  the  more  they 
saw  of  him,  the  more  they  trusted.  He  was  so  considerate  of  theii 
feelings.     He   was   so  charitable  to  their  infirmities      He  was  so 


604  MEMOm  OF  WILLIAM  CROSWELL.  ^1853. 

constant  in  his  assiduity.  He  knew  the  strings  in  every  broken 
heart ;  and  had,  from  God,  the  medicine  to  heal  their  hurts.  He 
seemed  a  ministering  angel  to  them  :  and  they  glorified  God  in  him. 
But,  especially,  he  was  so  unreserved  in  his  self-sacrifice.  One  says 
of  him,  (in  a  letter  to  the  preacher,)  'Dr.  Croswell  was  instant, 
in  season  and  out  of  season.  He  never  was  known  to  refuse  any 
call  for  service  or  duty.'  And  another,  than  whom  no  living  man 
knows  better  what  Christ's  servant  with  the  poor  should  be,  speaks 
thus  of  him,  in  words  which,  coming  from  the  heart,  go  to  it." 

Here  follows  the  extract,  given  on  a  preceding  page,  from  the 
Annual  Report  of  the  Rev.  E.  M.  P.  Wells.  And  the  preacher 
then  proceeds : — 

"How  plainly  I  can  see  him  now,  with  his  old  cloak  wrapped 
about  him,  which  he  would  gladly  have  given  to  the  next  poor  man, 
if  he  had  thought  it  good  enough  for  him  ;  and  with  his  huge  over- 
shoes, which,  when  he  put  them  on  so  deliberately,  would  always 
bring  to  mind  what  the  apostle  said  about  having  the  '  feet  shod 
with  the  preparation  of  the  gospel  of  peace.'  As  he  set  out  upon 
his  ministry  of  mercy,  you  might  think  him  very  slow,  and  doubt  if 
he  would  find  his  way,  and  wonder  when  he  would  get  back,  or 
if  he  ever  would.  But,  ere  he  slept,  he  would  have  threaded  every 
darkest  and  most  doleful  lane  in  the  most  destitute  quarter  of  the 
city,  dived  into  cellars,  and  climbed  garrets,  comforted  a  lonely 
widow,  prayed  by  a  dying  sailor,  administered  the  Holy  Communion 
to  an  old  bedridden  woman,  carried  some  bread  to  a  family  of  half- 
starved  children,  engaged  a  mother  to  be  sure  and  send  her  youngest 
(^ughter  to  an  infant  school,  and  '  made  a  sunshine '  in  the  shadiest 
places  of  human  suflfering  and  sorrow.  And  when  all  this  was 
done,  if  he  had  time  for  it,  he  would  charm  the  most  refined  and 
intellectual  with  his  delightful  conversation  and  his  pure  and  lambent 
playfulness.  With  a  manner  that  seemed  quite  too  quiet,  there  was 
an  undercurrent  of  ceaseless,  irrepressible  activity;  and  brightest 
thoughts,  in  happiest  words,  were  ever  oozing  out,  like  fragrant 
gums  from  some  East  Indian  tree,  as  soft,  as  sweet,  as  balmy,  as 
balsamic.  '  He  was  a  scholar,  and  a  ripe  and  good  one.'  I  may 
add  as  justly,  '  exceeding  wise,  fair  spoken,  and  persuading.'  He 
had  an  intuition  for  good  books  and  the  best  parts  of  them,  as  he 
.-iad  also  for  good  men.*  With  all  he  did,  and  with  the  little  that 
he  seemed  to  do,  —  the  very  reverse  of  Chaucer's  sergeant,  who 
'seemed  busier  than  he  was,'  —  he  was  at  home  in  all  good  Enghsh 

*  One  of  the  keenest  knowcrs  I  have  ever  met  observed  of  him  that  his 
knowledge  of  men  was  most  remarkable.  "  It  was  hard  to  get  his  judgment," 
he  remarked  ;  "  but  when  you  had  it,  it  was  a  good  one.  He  was  a  staff  that 
you  might  lean  on,  sure  that  it  would  neither  bend  nor  break." 


1851.]  TESTIMONIALS.  505 

learning,  with  perfect  mastery  among  the  poets.  His  classical  attain- 
ments were  mucli  beyond  the  average.  He  was  a  well-read  divine; 
and,  beyond  any  man  I  knew,  was  «  mighty  in  the  Scri))tures,'  and 
skilful  in  his  application  of  them.  His  sermons  were  entirely  prac- 
tical. The  object  of  his  preaching  was  apparent  always  —  to  make 
men  better.  He  sunk  himself  entirely  in  his  theme  —  Christ 
Jesus,  and  him  crucified.  He  had  no  manner.  Yet  the  perfect 
conviction  which  he  carried  with  him  from  the  first,  that  he  was 
really  in  earnest,  made  him  attractive  to  all  sorts  of  people,  high 
and  low,  rich  and  poor,  wise  and  simple,  ignorant  and  learned,  and 
made  him  profitable  to  all.  And  whatever  his  discourse  might  be, 
in  matter  or  in  manner,  there  was  the  cogent  application  always  of 
a  holy  and  consistent  life.  His  habits  were  simple,  almost  to  severity. 
'  Having  food  and  raiment,'  he  was  '  therewith  content.'  What  re- 
mained, after  necessities  were  met,  was  so  much  for  the  poor.  He 
was  a  Churchman  of  the  noblest  pattern  —  a  Cliurclnnan  of  the 
Bible  and  of  the  Prayer  Book  —  a  Churchman  with  Andrews,  and 
Taylor,  and  Wilson.  If  he  was  least  tolerant  of  any  form  of  error, 
it  was  that  of  Papal  Rome.  He  would  have  burned,  if  need  had 
been,  with  Latimer  and  Ridley.  He  made  no  compromise  with 
novelties,  but  always  said,  '  The  old  is  better.'  There  was  no  place 
for  the  fantastic  in  his  churchmanship ;  it  was  taken  up  too  much 
with  daily  work,  and  daily  prayer,  and  daily  caring  for  the  poor. 
There  was  no  antagonism  between  his  poetry  and  practice.  His 
poetry  was  practical.  It  was  the  way-flower  of  his  daily  hfe  ;  its 
violet,  its  cowslip,  or  its  pansy.*  It  sprang  up  where  he  walked. 
You  could  not  get  a  letter  from  him,  though  made  up  of  the  details 
of  business  or  the  household  trifles  of  his  hearth,  that  some  sweet 
thought  (as  natural  as  it  was  beautiful)  would  not  bubble  up  above 
tlie  surface  with  prismatic  hues  that  marked  it  his.  His  heart  was 
wholly  in  the  jiriesthood.  He  loved  to  pray.  He  loved  to  minister 
the  sacrament.  He  loved  to  preach.  He  loved  to  catechize  the 
children.  And,  when  he  lifted  up  his  manly  voice  in  the  old  hymns 
and  anthems  of  the  Church,  it  seemed  as  if  a  strain  of  the  eternal 
worship  had  strayed  down  from  heaven.  He  was  so  modest  and 
retiring  that  few  knew  him  well.  But  there  is  no  one  that  knew 
him  well  that  will  not  say,  with  me,  '  We  shall  not  look  upon  his 
like  again.'  If  he  excelled  in  any  one  relation  after  his  service  to 
Christ's  poor,  it  was  in  all  the  acts  and  oflSces  of  friendship.  He  was 
a  perfect  friend.  So  delicate,  so  thoughtful,  so  candid,  so  loving, 
so  constant.      'More  than  my  brother  '  for  a  quarter  of  a  century,  I 

*  How  fond  he  was  of  flowers  !  Beautiful  tributes  of  this  kind  went  -vdth 
him  into  the  grave.  He  was  a  fond  lover  of  music  too.  He  not  only  took  a 
leading  part  in  the  music  of  the  church,  but  employed  liis  exquisite  taste  in 
its  selection ;  so  that  its  whole  character  was  singularly  tender,  touching,  and 
impressive. 

64 


506  MEMOIR  OF  ^\TLLIAM   CROSWELL.  |1851, 

dare  not  trust  myself  to  speak  of  what  he  was  to    me,  of  what  I 
know  I  was  to  him." 

But  we  must  desist ;  and,  with  one  more  selection,  we  must  close 
our  testimonials  from  the  pulpit.  The  following  extracts  are  from 
a  sermon  delivered  by  the  Lord  Bishop  of  Fredericton  in  the 
Church  of  the  Advent,  on  the  evening  of  Good  Friday,  April  9,  1852. 
The  theme  of  the  sermon  was  the  Cross  of  Christ. 

"  But  then,  on  the  other  hand,  we  have  learned  to  look  on  the 
cross  in  a  right  light,  not  only  as  a  thing  to  be  borne  for  us,  but 
worn  for  us  ;  worn,  I  mean,  not  as  one  of  the  world's  show  trinkets, 
but  within  our  very  flesh,  as  our  sore,  inward,  daily  burden.  If,  by 
these  wounds  imprinted  and  fastened  on  our  souls,  we  can  discern, 
or  hope  we  can  discern,  some  evidences  of  our  faith,  our  likeness 
to  Him  who  was  bought  so  cheaply,  sold  so  infamously,  weighed  in 
human  balances  and  found  wanting,  though  not  in  the  balances  of 
the  sanctuary,  then  will  this  holy  week,  this  looking  on  the  cross 
to-day,  this  himible,  earnest,  duteous  gaze  on  Him  whom  our  sins 
have  pierced,  be  at  once  our  comfort  and  our  sorrow,  our  assurance 
and  our  fear,  our  warning  and  our  safeguard. 

"  It  is  this,  the  one-sided,  partial  view  of  the  cross,  which  is  so 
dangerous,  —  the  seeing  in  Christ  only  our  example,  not  our 
surety, — looking  on  him  only  as  our  justifier,  not  our  pattern. 
Let  us  behold  him  as  both  the  one  and  the  other,  and  in  that  blessed 
image  be  changed  from  glory  to  glory,  even  as  by  the  spirit  of  the 
Lord.  For  what  if  the  cross  be  to  flesh  and  blood  most  discom- 
fortable  ;  what  is  there  of  real  comfort  in  the  world  without  the 
cross  ?  Where  do  the  bereaved  and  the  orphan,  the  fatherless 
child,  the  sorrowing  relatives,  the  languishing,  the  oppressed,  and 
the  solitary,  in  this  boiling  flood  of  agitation,  our  modern  world,  — 
where  do  these  troubled  ones  find  comfort  but  beneath  the  cross  ? 
It  was  here  that  your  honored  and  beloved  pastor  found  it.  He 
raised  the  symbol  on  high  in  this  place  —  he  impressed  it  on  your 
hearts,  not  to  direct  your  meretricious  worship  to  a  paltry  ornament, 
but  to  guide  your  most  sacred  affections  and  remembrance  to  the 
great  original.  He  recommended  it  to  you,  not  merely  as  an  out- 
ward symbol,  but,  by  his  own  example,  (through  the  inward  grace 
obtained  from  above,)  by  the  meekness  with  which  he  bore  it,  by  the 
sympathy  with  which  he  carried  its  healing  balm  into  the  houses  of 
the  desolate,  the  diseased,  and  the  lost,  by  the  truth  with  which  he 
preached  it,  by  the  firmness  with  which  he  died  embracing  it, 
holding  with  both  hands  —  engraved  on  his  heart,  secured  by  his 
unshaken  faith  —  this  divine,  this  glorious  truth,  which  his  succes- 
sor has  delivered  to  us  this  morning.  It  is  finished  !  it  is  finished  ' 
My  Lord  is  mine,  and  I  am  his. 


1851.]  TESTIMONIALS.  507 

"  Thus,  then,  let  us  hold  it ;  looking  off  from  him  whose  name 
and  virtues  we  thankfully  and  affectionately  remember,  and  from 
all  names  beside,  into  that  one  name  '  which  is  above  every  name,' 
and  which  alone  is  worthy  to  bear  the  weight  of  our  affections,  and 
to  receive  all  the  praise  and  glory  we  poor  sinners  can  give.  To 
Him  and  to  Him  alone,  who  by  his  cross  and  precious  blood  has 
redeemed  and  regenerated,  and  doth  sanctify,  and  will  glorify  us, 
—  if  we  continue  faithful  unto  death,  —  to  Him,  with  the  Father 
and  the  Holy  Ghost,  be  all  honor  and  glory,  now  and  forever. 
Amen  !  " 

There  is  yet  another  testimonial  to  produce,  incidental  indeed, 
but  none  the  less  valuable  on  that  account.  It  is  a  passage  in  the 
argument  of  R.  H.  Dana,  Esq.,  on  the  trial  of  the  Rev.  O.  S.  Pres- 
COTT  for  heresy  —  a  trial  on  charges,  founded  chiefly  on  public 
rumor.  Mr.  Dana,  after  depicting,  in  true  and  glowing  colors,  the 
vile  characteristics  of  public  rumor,  goes  on  to  say,  — 

"  Public  rumor  !  I  was  educated  to  despise  it.  A  sound,  well- 
conceived  public  opinion,  on  a  subject  upon  which  public  opinion  can 
intelligently  act,  I  regard  with  due  respect ;  but  mere  rumor  I  should 
be  ashamed  to  own  as  a  motive  for  one  moment  or  one  action  of 
my  life.  When  the  counsel  for  the  prosecution  passed  his  eulogy 
on  the  memoi-y  of  the  late  Dr.  Croswell,  I  could  not  but  think 
what  a  rebuke  his  whole  life  was  to  public  rumor.  If  ever  a  man 
was  the  destined  victim  of  public  rumor,  that  man  was  William 
Croswell.  Not  left  to  its  low  haunts,  but  elevated  to  the  dignity 
of  episcopal  sanction,  promulgated  by  episcopal  proclamation,  (of 
the  general  or  canonical  propriety  of  which  I  do  not  now  wish  to 
speak,)  it  charged  him  with  '  degrading  the  character  of  the  Church, 
and  perilling  the  souls  of  our  people.'  *  But,  in  patience  and  con- 
fidence, he  lived  it  all  down!  He  went  forward  in  the  due  discharge 
of  his  noble  duties,  in  daily  prayers,  daily  public  service,  daily  min- 
istrations to  the  poor,  and  sick,  and  afflicted,  not  without  much 
suffering  from  the  relentless  attacks  on  his  name  and  usefulness  — 
sufferings  which  shortened  his  days  on  earth  ;  and  the  daily  beauty 
of  his  life  made  ugly  the  countenance  of  detraction  and  defamation. 
Public  confidence,  a  plant  of  slow  growth,  grew  about  him.  Public 
justice  was  rendered  to  him  without  a  movement  of  his  own.  He 
fell  at  his  post,  with  all  his  armor  on.  About  the  time  of  the  even- 
ing sacrifice  the  angel  touched  him,  and  he  was  called  away.  He 
fell,  with  his  face  to  his  altar,  with  the  words  of  benediction  on 
his  lips,  surrounded   by  an  almost   adoring  congregation,  mourned 

*  This  allusion  will  be  understood  by  recurring  to  page  359  of  the  preceding 
Memoir. 


508  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1851. 

by  an  entire  community.  All  men  rose  up  and  called  him  blessed. 
From  the  distinguished  rector  of  St.  Paul's  Church,  in  his  noble 
sermon  from  the  text,  '  My  father,  my  father,  the  horses  of  Israel 
and  the  chariots  thereof!  '  to  the  humblest  orphan  child  in  the  ob- 
scure alley  who  missed  his  daily  returning  visit  —  all,  all,  with  one 
accord,  sent  up  their  voices  as  incense  to  heaven.  I  had  the  honor 
and  privilege  to  be  one  of  the  i'ew  who,  seven  years  before  that  day, 
received  him  on  his  entrance  into  the  city  to  take  charge  of  his 
infant  parish.  I  am  proud  and  grateful  to  remember  that  I  was  one 
of  those  on  whom,  in  his  long  struggle,  in  a  measure,  according  to 
my  ability,  he  leaned  for  support.  And  seven  years,  almost,  I  be- 
lieve quite,  to  the  very  day,  I  had  the  melancholy  privilege,  with 
that  same  company,  of  bearing  his  body  up  that  aisle  which  he  had 
so  often  ascended  in  his  native  dignity  and  in  the  beauty  of  holiness  ! 
"  I  should  be  an  unworthy  parishioner,  pupil,  I  may  say  friend, 
of  his,  if  I  allowed  myself  to  defer  for  a  moment  to  public  rumor 
on  a  question  of  character  or  principle.  I  should  be  forgetful  of 
his  example  if  I  allowed  any  one  to  do  so  who  looked  to  me  for 
counsel  and  direction.  No,  gentlemen,  let  us  all,  lay  or  reverend, 
call  to  mind  his  life  and  his  death  ;  and  let  public  rumor  blow  over 
us  as  the  idle  wind,  poisonous  only  to  those  who  open  their  senses 
to  receive  it." 

Among  the  first  testimonials  of  private  friendship  presented  to 
the  bereaved  widow  were  the  following  poetical  effusions  from  Wil- 
liam Croswell  Doane,  godson  of  the  deceased.  They  were  ac- 
companied by  a  note,  saying,  "  My  heart  would  think  them,  and 
my  pen  would  write  them.  I  trust  you  will  look  at  them  only  in 
the  light  of  a  humble  expression  of  my  sorrowing  sympathy  in 
our  great  bereavement." 

W.  C. 

OBT.  NOVEMBER   9,   1851. 

**  so  HE   GIVETH  HIS  BELOVED   SLEEP." 

A  faithful  soldier  is  asleep, 

W.'tn  his  Master's  armor  on ; 
And  his  Master's  sign  upon  his  brow, 

To  his  peaceful  rest  he's  gone. 
It  is  not  strange  God  let  him  die, 

When  he  had  fought  so  well. 
And  kept  the  faith  —  though  sad  it  be 

For  our  poor  hearts  to  feel. 

Beside  my  second  father's  bier 
I  stood  in  silence  bowed ; 


1851.]  TES'miONIALS.  509 

His  priestly  robe  was  round  his  form  — 

A  surplice  for  a  shroud. 
And  so  he  sleeps,  as  soldier  should, 

With  all  his  armor  on. 
And  a  happy  smile  upon  his  lips 

For  the  conquest  he  has  won. 

We  pray  for  "  Christ's  Church  militant " 

Each  Sunday  morn,  at  home  ; 
And  the  day  that  my  godfather  died, 

E'er  the  sad  news  had  come, 
In  it  we  blessed  God  for  this  saint. 

Who  died  in  faith  and  fear, 
And,  knowing  not,  we  prayed  to  die 

Like  him  who  sleepeth  here. 


Pnos  Bank,  November  11,  1851. 


W.  C.  D. 


W.   C.   D.   TO   W.   C.   IN  HEAVEN. 

My  sainted  second  father,  now, 

With  tears  that  will  have  way, 
My  eyes  gaze  on  the  precious  lines 

You  sent  me  one  birthday,* 
To  mind  me  how  four  years  before, 

Around  the  stream  of  life, 
Your  voice  made  promise,  in  my  stead, 

To  arm  me  for  the  strife. 

And  now  that  voice  is  hushed  in  death, 

And  pulseless  is  the  hand 
That  promised  me  a  deathless  love, 

Knit  in  such  sacred  band  ; 
And  all  the  words  and  acts  of  love 

Thy  gentle  spirit  gave, 
Are  dearer  far  now  thou'rt  asleep 

Within  thy  peaceful  grave. 

O  God,  in  whose  all-blessed  name 

Our  union  first  was  sealed, 
Remind  me  of  Ms  faithful  life 

And  labors  in  thy  field  : 
And  such  as  his  was  be  my  course. 

That  so  it  may  be  given. 
When  I  have  "  fought  my  fight,"  to  meet 

My  godfather  in  heaven. 
EiVEESiDE,  December  19,  1851. 

*  For  a  copy  of  these  lines,  see  page  137. 


mo  MEMOm  OF  WnXIAM   CROS^\^LL.  [1851. 

The  following  tribute  of  private  friendship  is  drawn  from  a  letter 
of  J.  P.  CouTHOUY,  Esq.,  now  residing  in  Brownville,  Texas,  ad- 
dressed to  his  sister,  in  Boston,  and  accompanied  by  a  package  of 
letters  of  the  deceased,  with  permission  to  employ  such  portions  of 
them  as  might  be  found  necessary  in  making  out  the  preceding 
memoir.  This,  it  is  presumed,  will  not  be  deemed  an  extravagant 
or  overdrawn  eulogium,  when  the  close  and  cordial  intimacy  of  the 
parties  is  duly  considered.  In  reference  to  the  published  testimo- 
nials received  from  his  sister,  he  says, — 

"You  would  have  felt  repaid  could  you  have  known  all  the  confl- 
fort  they  brought  my  aching  heart  in  those  bitter  hours  of  grief 
and  darkness  that  followed  my  first  tidings  of  the  removal  of  that 
most  beloved  friend,  with  whom  ...  all  that  constitutes  true 
friendship  and  makes  the  hfe  of  those  who  share  in  it  delightful, 
has  passed  away  from  mi/  life  forever.  No,  never  on  earth  can  the 
place  he  held  in  my  love  be  filled.  How,  in  the  nature  of  things, 
could  it  1  And  were  it  possible,  I  could  not  wish  it.  More  dear 
to  me  the  memory  of  all  that  he  was  and  gave  to  me  than  could  be 
any  joy  in  newer  friends.  I  can  feel  the  force  of  the  divine  saying, 
'  Where  the  treasure  is  there  will  the  heart  be  also  : '  and  would  not 
exchange  what  I  possess  in  him  for  any  kept  in  earthen  vessels ; 
though  in  the  weakness  of  our  nature  I  cannot  yet  repress  an  emo- 
tion of  bitter  anguish  at  the  thought  that  he  is  gone,  even  while 
I  feel  and  rejoice  that  it  is  to  his  exceeding  great  reward,  and 
would  not  that  he  were  yet  of  us  who  have  still  to  fight  the  battle 
with  sin  and  temptation,  —  enemies  without,  and  yet  worse  within,  — 
out  of  which  he  has  come  triumphant.  It  may  be  that  [  am  not 
alone  in  the  feeling,  but  it  seems  to  me  as  if  no  one  could  have 
loved  him  with  the  peculiar  afl^ection  that  was  mine ;  and  I  expe- 
rience an  emotion  akin  to  jealousy  when  I  read  of  others  claiming 
to  have  known  and  appreciated  his  worth  and  the  beauty  of  his 
character  equally  with  myself.  As  memory  wanders  back  to  the 
golden  period  of  our  first  friendship,  when  both  were  in  the  prime 
of  young  manhood,  when  we  were  inseparable  as  lovers,  and  the 
passage  of  a  day  without  our  meeting  was  a  matter  of  marvel, 
and  tlie  one  had  scarcely  a  thought  or  hope  that  was  not  known 
to  or  shared  by  the  other,  I  cannot  but  ask  myself  who,  at  least 
among  his  later  friends,  could  know  and  love  the  man  Ckoswell, 
as  1  ?  How  my  heart  swells  at  the  recollection  of  the  happy 
hours  we  have  passed  together,  heart  answering  to  heart,  or  wandered 
out  from  the  thronged  city  without  any  definite  object,  yet  of  a 
surety,  not  unprofitably.  What  wisdom,  clothed  in  noble  simplicity, 
what  volumes  of  unwritten  poetry  of  the  loftiest  character,  were 
wont,  in  those  genial  rambles,  to  be  poured  fortli  by  him  in  lavish 
profusion!     Never  may  I  liope  to  meet  with  such  wealth  of  ideas 


1851.]  TESTIMONIALS.  511 

in  any  one  man  again.  And  it  was  the  deep,  yet  unaffected,  re- 
ligious feeling  that  pervaded  all  he  said  or  did,  that  was  the  greatest 
charm  about  him.  He  not  only  saw  all  the  '  beauty  of  holiness  ' 
himself,  but  had  the  rare  gift  of  making  it  apparent  to  all  who  came 
in  contact  with  him.  I  do  not  fear,  dear  E.,  to  weary  you  with  too 
much  speech  of  our  friend,  even  though  I  can  say  nothing  new ; 
and  besides,  there  is  no  other  topic  in  which  we  are  so  mutually 
interested.  You  may  imagine  how  deeply  I  was  moved  by  the  evi- 
dences of  his  continued  affection  and  sympathy  contained  in  the 
box  lately  received  from  home ;  and  by  the  same  package  that  held 
the  acceptable  marks  of  his  interest  in  our  infant  parish,  to  find 
Dr.  Vinton's  beautiful  tribute  to  his  memory.  It  was  not  till  then 
that  my  loss  was  fully  realized.  On  you,  who  were  present  when 
the  summons  went  forth  for  him  to  meet  the  Bridegroom,  who  were 
privileged  to  look  upon  '  the  last  of  earth,'  the  blow,  terrible  as  it 
was,  could  hardly  have  fallen  with  such  bewildering  effect  as  it  did 
on  me.  You  were  able  to  familiarize  yourselves,  in  some  measure, 
with  the  sad  truth  before  he  was  taken  from  your  sight  forever  ;  and 
now  that  he  is  not,  I  imagine  that  had  such  a  privilege  been  mine, 
the  loss  had  been  far  easier  borne.  Yet  who  shall  say  ?  The  heart 
of  each  one  knoweth  only  its  own  bitterness  ;  and,  doubtless,  many 
find  it  hard  as  I  to  drain  this  chalice.  God  grant  that  the  myrrh 
it  contains  may  be  for  the  health  of  all  our  souls." 

The  following  lines  from  the  graceful  and  well-practised  pen  of 
Mrs.  SiGOURNEY,  first  appeared  in  "  The  Calendar,"  and  are  trans- 
ferred to  these  pages  with  peculiar  gratification  :  — 

CHRISTMAS  MEMORIES  OF  THE  LATE  REV.  DR.  WILLIAM 
CROS\VELL. 

Meek  ruler  of  the  sacred  lyre, 

Of  genius  true  and  bright, 
Whose  thoughts  were  like  the  hymning  choir 

That  cheer  the  temple  rite  : 
Hark !  hear  we  not  those  lays  once  more 

In  lively  numbers  glide. 
And  to  our  Lord  glad  descant  pour 

At  blessed  Christmas-tide  ? 

*  "  Now  gird  your  patient  loins  again ; 
Your  wasting  torches  trim  ; 
The  chief  of  all  the  sons  of  men  — 
Who  will  not  welcome  Him  ? 

*  Extract  from  an  Advent  Hymn,  by  Rev.  Dr.  W.  Croswell  ;  see  page  9.i 
of  this  work. 


512  MEMOm   or  WILLLIM   CR0S\VELL,  [1851. 

Rejoice  !  the  hour  is  near  —  at  length 

The  Journeyer  on  his  way, 
Comes  in  the  greatness  of  his  strength 

To  keep  his  holy  day. 

"  With  woven  wreaths  and  garlands  sweet, 

Along  his  wintry  road, 
Conduct  him  to  his  green  retreat. 

His  sheltered,  safe  abode  ; 
Fill  all  his  courts  with  sacred  songs, 

And  from  the  temple  wall 
Wave  verdure  o'er  the  faithful  throngs 

That  keep  the  festival." 

Deep  silence  checks  the  poet's  strain,  — 

And  yet  a  little  space 
It  seems  since  with  a  gathered  train, 

In  yonder  hallowed  place,* 
He  gladly  swelled  the  loud  response, 

Or  chant  of  solemn  mirth. 
Amid  the  band  of  white-robed  priests 

Who  hailed  a  bishop's  birth. 

But  soon,  while  on  a  listening  throng 

Eternal  truths  he  prest. 
The  pale-browed  angel  chained  the  tongue 

That  fain  his  flock  had  blest : 
And  sudden,  with  a  hghtning  blow. 

Cut  short  his  work  of  love  ;  — 
His  Sabbath  prayer  was  breathed  below, 

His  Sabbath  praise  above. 

L.  H.  S. 
Christmas,  1851. 


The  subjoined  verses  are  inscribed  on  a  well-executed  monu- 
mental piece,  drawn  by  Mrs.  Cobb,  and  presented  to  the  bereaved 
widow,  with  the  following  note:  — 

My  dear  Mrs.  Croswell  :  It  has  given  me  great  pleasure  to 
paint  this  little  piece  for  you,  which  I  wish  you  to  accept  as  a  slight 
memento  of  the  respect  and  affection  I  cherished  for  your  dear  de- 
parted husband.     I  hope  it  will  be  as  pleasant  for  you  to  look  upon 

*  He  was  present  at  the  consecration  of  the  assistant  bishop  of  Connecticut, 
in  St.  John's  Church,  Hartford,  and  apparently  in  perfect  health,  but  ten  days 
before  his  death. 


1851.]  TESTDIONIALS.  513 

as  it  was  to  me  to  draw  ;  and  I  sliall  feel  more  than  compensated 
for  the  time  bestowed  on  it. 

Beheve  me  yours,  very  affectionately, 

P.  B.  COBB. 

Ca.m,  on  the  bosom  of  thy  God, 

Blest  spirit,  rest  thee  now  ; 
E'en  while  on  earth  thy  footsteps  trod, 

His  seal  was  on  thy  brow. 

Dust,  to  its  narrow  home  beneath ; 

Soul,  to  its  place  on  high  ;  — 
Those  who  have  seen  thy  smile  in  death, 

Need  never  fear  to  die. 

Were  it  consistent  with  a  true  sense  of  delicacy,  the  biographer 
might  add  greatly  to  tlie  number  of  unpuonshed  testimonials  of  pri- 
vate friendship,  both  in  poetry  and  prose,  and  especially  in  the 
form  of  letters  of  condolence  addressed  to  the  parents,  and  to  the 
widow  and  child  of  the  deceased.  But  he  must  content  himself 
with  such  brief  extracts  as  may  serve  to  illustrate  some  of  the  prom- 
inent points  in  his  life  and  character. 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Coix,  his  intimate  friend  and  contemporary,  to  his 
father,  Hartford,  November  12,  1851 :  — 

"  I  have  known  him  for  more  than  thirty  years,  and  I  have  never 
known  any  tiling  of  him  which  it  is  not  pleasant  to  remember.  He 
was  a  kind  and  affectionate  friend  to  me  when  we  were  near  each 
other  ;  and  it  was  always  a  gratification  rather  than  a  labor,  to  aid 
him  professionally.  It  seemed  to  give  him  pleasure  to  have  me 
with  him  on  saints'  days;  and  the  last  time  I  recollect  preaching 
for  him  was  on  such  an  occasion.  He  appeared  to  relish  such 
labors,  '  out  of  season,'  with  the  zest  of  a  Geo.  Herbert.  .  . 
Most  particularly  do  I  regret,  that  in  the  hurry  of  the  late  conse- 
cration day,  I  was  not  able  so  much  as  to  take  bis  hand.  We 
knelt  side  by  side  at  the  cha'icel  and  received  tiie  elements  together, 
and  his  devout  tones  are  yet  familiar  to  my  ear.  It  seems  as 
if  he  was  stricken  down  at  my  very  side,  and  makes  the  blow  nearer 
to  me.  Blessed  be  God  that  I  can  believe  it  was  the  last  of  his 
sorrows  forevermore." 

The  Right  Rev.  Bishop  Southgate,  his  successor  to  the  rector- 
ship of  the  Advent,  to  his  father,  July  19,  1852  :  — 

"  How    deep   a  hold  your  son   had  upon   the  affections  of  the 
parish,    I    have    almost    daily    opportunity   to    witness,    especially 
65 


514  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1852. 

among  the  poor  and  the  afflicted  ;  and  I  have  no  doubt  there  are 
those  among  us  who  look  back  to  their  intercourse  with  him  as 
embracing  the  most  pleasant  reminiscences  of  their  Hves,  and  for- 
ward to  their  reunion  with  him  as  among  their  most  joyful  hopes. 
He  did  his  work  faithfully  and  well,  and  I  know  no  man  of  modern 
times  whose  last  years  were  so  much  like  the  life  of  a  confessor, 
or  whose  death  was  so  much  like  that  of  a  martyr.  I  often  think 
of  his  present  state  and  future  bliss,  as  having  a  far  richer  endow- 
ment of  happiness  than  will  fall  to  the  lot  of  most  of  the  laborers 
in  the  vineyard  of  the  Lord.  Most  peculiarly  did  he  leave  his  judg- 
ment with  God ;  most  peculiar,  therefore,  will  be  his  defence  and 
exaltation  in  the  last  great  day.  As  for  the  parish,  I  know  of  no 
feeling  more  frequently  in  my  mind  than  this  —  that  if  it  should 
prosper  and  become  permanent  and  widely  influential,  one  of  my 
strongest  emotions  of  happiness  in  contemplating  it  at  that  height 
will  be  in  seeing  that  it  is  a  noble  and  fitting  monument  to  the 
memory  of  him  who  laid  its  foundation.  May  that  memory  never 
cease  from  among  us  !  " 

Another  testimonial,  incidental  in  its  nature,  but  none  the  less 
striking  and  significant,  is  found  in  the  following  dedication  of  "  A 
Selection  of  Ancient  Psalm  Melodies,  adapted  to  the  Canticles  of 
the  Church  in  the  United  States  of  America,"  published  by  Dr.  F. 
E.  Oliver,  in  Boston,  1852  :  — 

"  To  the  memory  of  the  late  Rev.  William  Croswell,  D.  D., 
Rector  of  the  Church  of  the  Advent,  whose  exquisite  taste  in  all 
that  adds  dignity  and  beauty  to  the  solemn  service  of  the  sanctuary 
was  alone  surpassed  by  his  zeal  and  fidelity  as  a  priest  in  the 
Church  of  God,  this  Collection  of  Sacred  Chants  is  dedicated.' 


THE    COMMEMORATION. 

At  the  expiration  of  a  year  from  the  demise  of  the  late  rector, 
commemorative  services  were  held  in  the  Church  of  the  Advent, 
under  the  direction  of  the  new  incumbent,  the  Right  Rev.  Bishop 
SouTHGATE,  of  which  he  gives  the  following  explanation,  intro- 
ductory to  the  sermon  preached  on  the  occasion,  by  the  Rev.  A.  C. 
CoxE,  of  Hartford :  — 

"  It  had  been  proposed,  soon  after  the  decease  of  Dr.  Croswell, 
that  some  appropriate  commemoration  of  him  should  be  had,  and 
that  a  sermon  should  be  preached  upon  the  occasion.     The  circum- 


1862.]  THE   COMMEMORATION.  ,515 

stances  which  prevented  the  fulfilment  of  this,  the  universal  wish  of 
his  parishioners,  need  not  here  be  detailed.  When  the  present  writer 
succeeded  to  the  rectorship  of  the  Church  of  the  Advent,  several 
months  had  passed  since  Dr.  Croswell's  decease.  It  then  appeared 
untimely  to  execute  the  plan  proposed.  The  fitting  moment  had 
gone  by ;  and  the  writer,  wishing  also  himself  to  render  a  tribute  to 
the  memory  of  his  predecessor,  was  fain  to  wait  until  some  future  hour 
should  bring  the  thoughts  of  his  parishioners  again  into  fresh  contact 
with  the  departed.  The  anniversary  of  his  death  seemed  a  proper 
moment  for  the  purpose.  The  associations  of  the  event  would  then 
be  revived.  The  scenes  of  the  same  day  a  year  before,  would,  in 
memory,  be  repeated.  How  appropriate  to  make  this  the  hour  of 
commemoration  —  to  fulfil  the  purpose  which  would  have  been  ex- 
ecuted twelve  months  ago,  if  untoward  hindrances  had  not  prevented  ! 
The  writer  accordingly  invited  several  of  his  clerical  brethren,  bishops 
and  priests,  friends  of  the  deceased,  to  aid  him  in  the  commemo- 
ration. All  came  who  could  come.  The  absence  of  the  venerable 
father  of  the  departed,  though  unavoidable,  was,  of  all  the  absences, 
most  deeply  regretted.  The  services  (briefly  to  recapitulate  them) 
were  as  follows  :  — 

"  Morning  prayer  at  9,  A.  M.  —  The  Rev.  Henry  Burroughs, 
Jr.,  late  rector  of  St.  John's  Church,  Northampton,  commenced  the 
service.  The  Rev.  W.  L,  Childs,  priest  associate  in  the  Church 
of  the  Advent,  Boston,  read  the  lessons.  The  Rev.  T.  Edson, 
D.  D.,  rector  of  St.  Anne's  Church,  Lowell,  said  the  Nicene  Creed 
and  the  prayers.  The  Introit  was  the  ^Sd  psalm  of  the  Psalter. 
The  ante-communion  service  was  read  by  the  Rev.  A.  L.  Baury,  late 
rector  of  St.  Mary's  Church,  Newton  Lower  Falls,  the  Rev.  Asa 
Eaton,  D.  D.,  reading  the  epistle.  The  first  two  verses  of  the  212th 
hymn  were  sung  after  the  gospel.  The  Rev.  W.  L.  Childs  said 
the  offertory  and  the  prayer  for  the  church  militant.  The  exhor- 
tation, invitation,  and  confession  were  read  by  the  Rev.  A.  C.  CoxE, 
rector  of  St.  John's  Church,  Hartford,  Conn.  The  absolution  was 
pronounced  by  the  Right  Rev.  Horatio  Southgate,  D.  D.,  rector  of 
the  Church  of  the  Advent,  who  also  read  the  sentences  following. 
The  Trisagion  was  sung  by  the  choir  and  people.  The  prayer  of 
preparation,  the  consecration,  the  oblation,  and  invocation  were 
said  by  Bishop  Southgate.  The  last  two  verses  of  the  93d  hymn 
were  sung.  The  holy  sacrament  was  administered  to  the  clergy 
present,  ten  in  number,  by  Bishop  Southgate,  and  to  a  large  body 
of  the  laity  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Eaton  and  the  Rev.  Mr.  Baury.  The 
Rev.  Mr.  Baury  said  the  post-communion  office ;  the  Gloria  in  Ex- 
celsis  was  sung  by  the  choir  and  people ;  and  the  benediction  was 
pronounced  by  the  rector  of  the  church. 


516  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1852. 

^^  Evening  prayer  at  half  past  seven,  P.  M. — The  Rev.  P.  H. 
Greenleaf,  rector  of  St.  Mark's  Church,  Boston,  commenced  the 
service.  The  5th  selection  of  Psahns  was  sung  by  the  choir  and 
people.  The  Rev.  N.  Hoppin,  rector  of  Christ  Church,  Cambridge, 
read  the  lessons.  The  Rev.  T.  R.  Lambert,  chaplain  U.  S.  N., 
said  the  creed  and  prayers.  The  132d  psalm  of  the  Psalter  was 
sung  from  the  8th  verse  inclusive.  The  Rev.  Mr.  CoxE  preached 
the  sermon.*  The  offertory  and  prayer  for  the  Church  militant  were 
said  by  the  Rev.  .T.  P.  Robinson,  rector  of  the  Free  Church  of  St. 
Mary  for  Sailors,  Boston.  The  88th  hymn  (the  hymn  announced 
by  Dr.  Croswell  after  the  stroke  of  death  had  fallen  upon  him) 
was  sung.  The  collect  for  All  Saints'  day,  and  the  first  prayer  in 
the  office  for  the  burial  of  the  dead,  were  said  by  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Baury.      The  benediction  was  pronounced  by  the  rector. 

"  The  offertory  for  the  day  amounted  to  nine  hundred  and  forty 
dollars  —  of  which  two  hundred  and  eiglity-seven  dollars,  being  con- 
tributed by  the  ladies  of  the  parish  for  the  special  object  of  erecting 
a  monument  as  a  '  tribute  of  affection  '  at  tlie  grave  of  the  de- 
ceased, was  so  appropriated  ;  and  the  remainder  added  to  the  fund 
for  the  building  of  a  new  Church  of  the  Advent  —  a  nobler  monu- 
ment still  to  his  memory. 

"  And  now,  what  shall  the  writer  say  of  the  day  itself  and  the 
spirit  which  animated  it  1  It  was  most  joyous,  yet  most  serene. 
There  was  no  perturbation,  no  excitement,  hardly  any  sensible  motion. 
All  moved  on  so  quietly,  so  placidly,  yet  so  cheerfully,  that  the  flow 
was  like  that  of  a  stream,  far  away  from  the  world,  through  still 
groves  —  like  the  movement,  he  imagined,  of  the  pure  river  of  the 
water  of  life  which  proceedeth  out  of  the  throne  of  God  and  of  the 
Lamb.  All  the  day  long  there  oscillated  through  his  mind  the  thought 
of  Herbert's  line  — 

'  O  day,  most  calm,  most  bright ! ' 

H.  S. 

Church  of  the  Advent,  Boston,  November  23,  1852." 


Boston,  JVovember  9,  1852. 

Reverend  and  dear  Sir  :  We,  the  clergy  present  and  officiating  at  the 

services  in  the  Church  of  the  Advent  to-day,  and  several  of  the  laity  there 

present,  respectfully  request  the  publication  of  your  sermon  delivered  this 

evening   in  commemoration  of  the  late  Rev.  Dr.  Croswell,  believing  that 

*  The  faithful  witness ;  or,  the  pastoral  work  and  character,  as  exemplified 
in  the  life  and  death  of  William  Ckoswell,  U.  D.,  first  rector  of  the  Church 
of  the  Advent,  Boston  ;  being  a  sermon  preached  in  said  church  on  the  first 
anniversary  of  his  death,  November  9,  1852,  by  A.  C.  Coxe,  M.  A.,  rector  of 
St.  John's  Church,  Hartford,  Conn. 


1852.]  THE   COMMEMORATION.  517 

it  will  be  a  fit  and  appropriate  memorial  of  his  superior  character  and  inval- 
uable labors  as  a  parish  priest,  and  that  it  may  thus  serve  as  a  model  for 
those  who  aspire  to  excellence  in  the  pastoral  office,  while  it  will  furnish  a 
useful  lesson  to  the  laity  in  their  relations  to  the  clerjjy  and  the  Church  of 
God. 

Faithfully,  your  friends  and  brethren, 

IIOKATIO   SOUTUGATE,  ASA    EATON, 

ALFRED   L.  BAUUV,  TtiEOBORE  EDSON, 

THUS.   U.  LAMI5EUT,  JOHN   P.  ROBINSON. 

NICHOLAS   HOI'RIN,  W.  L.  CHILDS, 

THERON  METCALE,  WILLIAM   FOSTER   OTIS, 

G.   C.   SUATTL'CK,  Jr.,  JOHN   P.  TARBELL, 

FYTCHE   EDWARD  OLIVER,  RICHARD   H.   SALTER, 

RICHARD  U.  DA^A,  Jr.,  HENRV   M.    PARKER, 

HENRY  T.   PARKER,  J.   H.    WAKEFIELD, 

JOSEPH  BURNETT,  DANIEL  CHAMBERLIN. 


Hartford,  JVbvember  20,  18.'52. 
Right  reverend  Sir,  reverend  Brethren,  and  Gentlemen:  It  givea 
me  pleasure  to  receive  your  favorable  opinion  of  my  endeavor  to  preach  ap- 
propriately on  so  suggestive  a  subject  as  that  of  the  life  and  character  of 
the  late  Dr.  Croswell.  If  my  sermon  can  be  rendered  further  serviceable 
to  his  parishioners  and  friends  by  its  publication,  I  am  not  at  liberty  to  with- 
hold it ;  and  I  herewith  submit  it  to  your  disposal. 

I  remain  your  obedient  servant, 

A.  C.   COXE. 

The  Rt.  Rev.  Dr.  Southoate, 
Rev.  Dr.  Eaton. 
Hon.  Theron  Metoalf, 


TO   THE  REV.   ASA  EATON,   D.   D. 

Reverend  Doctor:  When  I  reflect  how  much  your  venerable  example 
has  contributed  to  the  progress  and  stability  of  the  Church  of  the  Advent; 
how  much  your  daily  converse  comforted  and  strengthened  the  great  heart 
of  its  departed  rector ;  and  how  you  received  his  last  sigh,  and  dismissed 
his  spirit  out  of  this  miserable  world,  in  the  commendatory  words  of  our 
mother  the  Church,  —  I  cannot  but  hope  you  will  accept  this  brotherly  tribute 
to  his  memory,  and  by  so  doing  confer  a  favor  upon  me.  Let  me  add  a  fer- 
vent prayer,  that  your  gray  hairs,  which  are  declared  to  be  a  crown  of  glory 
to  the  servants  of  God,  may  long  be  permitted  to  bow  daily  in  the  accus- 
tomed place  before  the  altar  ;  and  that  your  presence  may  thus  animate  the 
faith  and  perseverance  of  many,  before  you  shall  be  called  to  that  better 
crown  of  glory  which  fadeth  not  away.     I  remain. 

With  veneration  and  affection. 

Your  faithful  servant, 

A.  C.  C. 
Hartford,  JVovemher,  1852. 


SUB  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1852. 


SERMON. 

"Br  IT  HE   BEINO   DEAD  TEX   SPEAKETH."  —  Beb.  xL  4. 

In  all  its  relations  to  mortality,  the  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ  illus- 
trates its  origin  from  God  by  its  wonderful  adaptation  to  the 
wants  of  man.  Death  and  the  grave,  which  mock  all  human  systems, 
put  the  crowning  witness  to  the  religion  of  Hlm  who  hath  brought 
life  and  immortality  to  light.  Hence  it  was  that  Jesus  and  the 
resurrection  were  the  burden  of  apostolic  testimony,  appealing 
so  tenderly  to  the  greatest  of  human  miseries  as  to  win  the  ear, 
and  arrest  the  conscience,  of  intelUgent  heathenism,  when  they 
would  have  been  deaf  to  any  thing  less  fimdamental  and  complete. 
Life  from  the  dead  became  the  great  idea  of  the  gospel,  as  the 
glorious  correlative  of  the  remission  of  sin ;  and,  at  once,  the 
converted  nations  enshrined  it,  in  all  places,  where  despair  had 
reigned  before.  No  more  the  sepulchre  was  inscribed  with  symbols 
of  decay  and  extinction  :  the  urn  and  the  inverted  torch  gave  place 
to  the  ark  and  the  sprouting  branch ;  and  the  wail  of  eternal  sepa- 
ration was  transformed  into  the  sweet  song  of  expectation  and  of 
promise.  Something  indeed  was  indulged  to  the  natural  feelings 
of  momentary  bereavement :  the  Christian  might  sorrow,  but  not 
as  without  hope  ;  and  when  devout  men  carried  Stephen  to  his  burial, 
they  made  great  lamentation  over  him,  but  not  as  forgetting  his 
dying  rapture  in  the  vision  of  his  Savior,  or  the  fact  with  which 
the  evangelist  concludes  his  story  —  the  fact  that  all  the  cruel  blows 
and  peltings  of  his  martyrdom  could  do  no  more  than  make  him 
fall  asleep* 

In  such  a  spirit  the  primitive  Church  received  in  earnest  the 
proverb  of  the  preacher  —  "A  good  name  is  better  than  precious 
ointment,  and  the  day  of  death  tlian  the  day  of  one's  birth."  t  With 
sweet  economy  of  faith,  she  made  practical  the  separate  parts  of 
the  inspired  adage,  both  at  once,  when  she  celebrated  her  holy  mar- 
tyrs, and  kept  the  days  of  their  suffering  as  days  of  festivity.  It  is 
in  the  same  spirit,  my  brethren,  that  we  keep  this  day.  It  is 
one  marked  in  your  parochial  history  by  the  striking  and  significant 
death  of  one  whose  life  was  that  of  a  confessor,  and  whose 
falling  asleep  was  like  that  of  sacrificing  Abel,  at  the  altar  of  our 
very  Paschax.  Lamb.  So  sudden  and  so  afilictive  was  your  bereave- 
ment, that  you  sorrowed  indeed  like  men,  and  yet  were  comforted 
like  Christians.  The  year  has  come  round  again,  renewing  our  ten- 
der recollections  of  his  holy  walk  with  God,  and  of  his  translation  to 
his  more  immediate  presence ;  and  we  mark  the  day  as  a  parochial 

*  Acts  vii.  60.  -t  Eccles.  vii.  1. 


1852.]  THE   COMMEMORATION.  51il 

feast.  Is  it  that  we  may  merely  renew  our  tears,  or  prolong  the  pa- 
geantry of  mourning  ?  God  forbid  !  He  is  at  rest,  delivered  out  of 
a  world  in  which  his  pure  spirit  found  very  little  that  was  congenial, 
and  satisfied  with  the  joys  of  paradise,  the  society  of  saints,  and  the 
vision  of  God.  We  keep  the  day  of  his  deliverance  with  gratitude 
for  his  example,  and  with  prayer  that  we  may  so  follow  it  that  we 
may  soon  rejoin  him  among  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect. 
We  keep  the  day,  that  we  may  soberly  review  the  providence  of 
God,  and,  in  a  calmness  impossible  to  our  first  grief,  attempt  the 
discovery  of  its  mysterious  import.  We  believe  that  being  dead 
he  yet  speaketh ;  and  we  keep  the  day,  that  we  may  the  better 
mark  and  learn  his  testimony,  and  inwardly  digest  what  it  should 
impress  upon  our  souls.  To  this  end,  may  the  Holy  Spirit  bless 
and  sanctify  the  words  which  I  shall  endeavor  to  speak  in  depend- 
ence upon  his  most  gracious  and  ready  help,  through  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ. 

I.  The  text  supplies  me  with  a  fruitful  subject  for  reflection 
at  the  very  outset.  Whether  it  were  Abel's  faith  or  Abel's  sacri- 
fice which  was  most  immediately  in  view  when  the  apostle 
wrote,  that  "  by  it  he  being  dead  yet  speaketh,"  the  sense  is,  in 
fact,  the  same.  Abel's  altar,  his  gifts,  his  sacrifice  were  more  ac- 
ceptable than  Cain's,  because  they  demonstrated  his  faith  as  rest- 
ing in  the  merits  and  death  of  the  promised  Lamb  of  God.  By 
it  the  martyr  had  spoken  of  Jesus  through  all  the  ages  of  pa- 
triarchs and  Aaronic  priests  ;  and,  consequently,  his  testimony  was 
fresh  and  perpetual  when  figures  and  types  were  done  away.  The 
unity  of  the  faith  is  the  groundwork,  therefore,  of  a  geimine 
Christian  testimony.  He  whose  faith  is  that  of  Abel  and  that  of 
St.  Paul ;  he  alone  to  whom  Jesus  Christ  is  Alpha  and  Omega, 
the  beginning  and  the  end  of  revelation  ;  he  alone,  being  dead,  can 
yet  speak  any  thing  to  the  purpose,  or  that  is  greatly  important  to 
be  heard  and  known.  Hence  it  is  worthy  of  consideration,  to 
begin  with,  that  he  whom  we  commemorate  this  day  lived  and 
died  for  the  faith  once  delivered  to  the  saints.  He  was  not  the 
author  of  any  new  doctrine  or  scheme  of  salvation,  but  the  steward 
of  that  which  Christ  had  committed  to  his  trust.  His  life  was  a 
consistent  testimony  to  scriptural  and  apostolic  truth.  He  knew 
nothing  among  you  but  Christ  and  him  crucified.  He  preached 
not  himself,  neither  the  wisdom  of  this  world,  but  the  same  gospel 
which,  even  when  St.  Paul  preached  it,  was  the  stumbling  block 
of  the  Jew,  and  foolishness  to  the  Greek. 

But  while  Cliristian  was  his  name,  Catholic  was  his  surname. 
The  terms  should,  indeed,  be  synonymous  ;  but  in  an  age  when 
many  whom  we  w^ould  not  deny  to  be  Christians  are,  nevertheless, 
sorely  departed  from   first  faith  and  first  love,  it  would   savor  of 


520  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM    CROSWELL.  [1852. 

affectation,  in  speaking  of  a  life  so  marked  as  Dr.  Croswell's,  to 
say  nothing  of  that  primitive  and  apostoHc  character  which  distin- 
guished his  rehgion  from  the  current  Christianity  of  our  day.  In 
a  word,  then,  he  was  a  Christian  of  no  sect  ;  such  a  Christian  as  all 
Christians  would  have  heen,  had  the  stream  of  undefiled  religion 
continued  to  run  without  admixture,  from  St.  Paul,  and  St.  James, 
and  St.  Peter,  down  to  our  own  times.  And  as  he  was  a  Chris- 
tian of  no  man  's  sect,  so  he  was  a  theologian  of  no  man  's  school. 
Never  a  divine  ran  his  course,  from  his  diaconate  to  his  decease, 
with  a  theology,  according  to  the  standards  of  our  Church,  more 
simply  orthodox,  uncolored,  and  unmingled.  Such  as  he  was  in 
the  diocese  of  Connecticut  in  his  amiable  novitiate,  such  he  was  here, 
when  he  bowed  his  manly  head,  and  fell  before  tliis  altar,  in  the 
raiment  of  his  priesthood.  And  this  I  specially  remark,  because  it 
was  his  lot,  in  the  middle  stage  of  life,  to  encounter  the  trying  ex- 
periences incident  to  a  great  theological  excitement,  which,  as  it 
rose  subsequent  to  the  period  when  his  own  theological  character 
was  formed,  so  it  became  violent,  and  spent  itself  before  he  rested 
from  his  labors.  And  yet  there  were  not  wanting  some  who  failed 
to  consider,  that,  however  its  consequences  may  have  aftected  him 
in  his  relations  to  others,  it  found  and  left  him  the  same  ;  always 
serene  and  unmoved,  shining  on,  Uke  a  star,  above  the  region  of 
tempest.  But  any  one  familiar  with  his  history  must  know  that  if 
some  who  moved  in  a  curve,  and  who  drew  near  only  to  diverge, 
seemed  for  a  moment  to  walk  with  him,  his  path  was  always  a 
straight  line  ;  and  that,  if  his  course  for  a  while  appeared  to  mingle 
with  discordant  elements,  it  was  only  as  sometimes  a  bright  river 
passes  through  a  turbid  lake,  and  yet  keeps  itself  transparent,  and 
emerges  and  flows  on  pure  as  ever.  His  uniform  consistency  with 
self,  and  with  the  truth  of  his  first  love,  was  beautiful  to  behold.  I 
look  back  and  marvel  at  the  composure  with  which,  amid  heats, 
and  paroxysms,  and  outbreaks,  amid  perils  on  the  right  hand  and 
on  the  left,  and  through  trials  which  were  fiery  for  a  time,  he  kept 
his  even  way,  and  hoped  and  made  the  best  of  others,  and  simply 
walked  with  God. 

And  as  I  have  spoken  of  him  as  a  steward,  I  must  be  indulged 
in  another  remark  upon  his  character.  A  man  who  is  the  inventor 
of  his  own  doctrines  may  do  with  them  as  he  will ;  but  it  is  rrqinred 
in  stewards  that  a  man  be  found  faithful.*  A  steward  must  keep 
that  which  is  committed  to  his  trust.  But  our  age  has  a  notion  of 
liberality  quite  the  reverse.  Tenacious  of  personal  things,  men 
would  be  liberal  with  that  which  does  not  belong  to  them,  and  com- 
promise for  every  thing  else  by  meeting  on  the  common  ground  of 
a  surrender  of  the  precious  truth  of  God.     In  this  sense  no  Church- 

*  1  Cor.  iv.  2. 


1852.]  THE   COMMEMORATION.  .521 

man  can  be  liberal.  The  testimony  of  .Iesus  he  must  keep  entire, 
and  even  earnestly  contend  for  it.  But  this  being  reserved,  he  can 
be  tolerant  and  charitable  ;  and  of  this  we  have  an  exani])le  in  our 
departed  Croswell,  to  which  I  can  think  of  no  superior.  How 
faithful  he  was  as  a  steward,  yet  how  liberal  as  a  man  !  In  him 
there  was  fidelity,  but  no  bigotry ;  and  no  one  could  drive  him  into 
intolerance  by  any  intolerance  towards  him.  His  lips  could  speak 
no  bitter  word,  his  neck  could  wear  no  party  yoke.  Towards 
brethren  widely  differing  from  him  in  theological  opinion  and  ])oli- 
cy,  he  cherished  kindly  relations  ;  and  if  a  man  was  but  good  and 
honest,  however  mistaken,  he  was  sure  of  a  friend  in  Croswell. 
His  spirit,  if  I  mistake  not,  was  precisely  that  of  the  moderation 
which  is  characteristic  of  our  Church  in  matters  not  fundamental ; 
and  O  that,  with  his  departure  into  paradise,  a  double  portion  of 
his  charity  may  have  fallen  upon  his  brethren  !  It  is  what  we  most 
need  among  us  ;  it  must  not  be  buried  with  him.  Let  us  cherish  it 
as  we  do  the  memory  of  that  radiant  countenance,  in  which  the 
dignity  of  manhood  was  so  marvellously  blended  with  the  innocency 
of  the  child,  and  which  reflected  together  the  meekness  and  gentle- 
ness of  the  Lamb  upon  Mount  Zion,  with  something  of  the  majesty 
of  the  Lion  of  the  tribe  of  .Tudah. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  simplicity  of  the  gospel  as  his  entire  testi- 
mony. He  lived  it,  as  he  preached  it,  in  the  integrity  of  the  New 
Testament,  and  according  to  its  faithful  witness  the  Prayer  Book. 
Yet  his  mission  was,  confessedly,  a  peculiar  one,  as  meeting  the 
wants  and  emergencies  of  peculiar  times.  It  was  his  to  be  a  re- 
pairer of  the  breach,  and  a  restorer  of  paths  to  dwell  in.  Much  of 
his  labor  was,  of  necessity,  given  to  things  which  ought  not  to  be 
left  undone,  rather  than  to  things  he  longed,  above  all,  to  do.  But 
in  this  he  followed  the  example,  and  lived  over  the  experiences, 
of  apostles.  When  St.  Paul  preached  to  Jews  and  Greeks  the 
same  unalterable  gospel  which  was  ever  at  his  heart,  did  he  also 
adopt,  with  these  diverse  people,  one  unalterable  method  of  pre- 
senting it  ?  Did  the  same  things  need  to  be  done  in  utterly  differ- 
ent circumstances  1  Or  when  to  the  .Tews  he  became  a  .Tew,  did  he 
then  glory  the  less  in  the  offence  of  the  cross  ?  How  broadly  sig- 
nificant is  the  lesson  taught  us  by  the  fact  that  an  apostle,  the  very 
last  to  be  impeached  of  .Tndaizing,  did  nevertheless  consider  it  part 
of  his  work  to  shave  his  head,  and  perform  .Tewish  rites  in  the 
temple,  at  the  instance  of  St.  .Tames,  that  he  might  gain  the  .Tews  ! 
Here  was,  indeed,  an  act  of  concession,  and  one  confessedly  ex- 
treme ;  but  it  was  founded  on  a  fixed  principle,  which  is  largely 
illustrated  in  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles,  and  from  which  we  may  in- 
fer that  nothing  can  be  more  adverse  to  the  spirit  of  the  gospel 
than  the  idea  —  too  prevalent  in  oar  times  —  that  the  gospel  is  to 
be  preached  only  in  one  way,  and  according  to  certain  conventional 
66 


522  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1852. 

prescriptions  of  local  society.  The  Church  has  need  of  the  richest 
diversity  of  gifts  in  her  sons,  and  of  ways  and  means  the  most  va- 
rious, for  bringing  them  to  bear  upon  her  work.  Without  dispar- 
aging the  task  of  any  faithful  minister  of  Christ,  or  condemning 
him  who,  taking  things  as  he  finds  them,  performs  a  round  of  duty 
closely  graduated  to  what  the  people  absolutely  exact  of  their  re- 
ligious teachers,  I  am  sure  that  the  exigencies  of  these  times  de- 
mand inventive  efforts  to  gather  in  the  wanderers  and  to  save  the 
lost ;  and  that  to  this  end  every  blessed  art  known  to  our  Commu- 
nion, and  coincident  with  her  institutions  and  services,  should  be 
put  forth  by  zealous  priests  and  laymen  to  catch  men.  We  want 
again  the  missionary  who  shall  lift  up  his  voice  in  the  wilderness 
like  Elijah,  and  the  street  preacher  who  shall  stand  up  like  Jonah 
in  the  city.  We  want  churches  in  which  the  rudest  solemnities 
shall  be  dignified  by  zeal  and  unction  in  the  worshippers ;  and  we 
want  churches  in  which  a  like  devotion  may  express  itself,  with  all 
the  accompaniments  of  Christianized  art  which  are  familiar  to  our 
Mother  Church.  The  religion  of  Christ  is  meant  for  all  men,  for 
all  ranks  in  society,  for  all  circumstances,  and  for  all  times  ;  and  in 
this  it  differs,  radically,  from  the  religion  of  sect,  which  is  always 
adapted  only  to  a  peculiar  sort,  or  class,  or  tribe  of  men,  and  yet 
denounces  all  whom  it  fails  to  inoculate  with  its  narrow  enthusi- 
asm. The  Church  alone  can  employ  every  thing  that  is  not  sinful 
to  the  glory  of  God  and  the  edification  of  his  intelligent  creatures ; 
and  by  methods  as  various  as  the  minds  he  has  made,  and  as  differ- 
ent as  the  manifold  circumstances  in  which  sinful  consciences  are 
languishing,  she  knows  how  to  minister  the  same  gospel,  and  bring 
souls  to  the  foot  of  the  same  cross  of  Christ.  And  although  she 
has  been  greatly  impeded,  by  external  hinderances,  in  the  exercise 
of  her  abundant  gifts,  I  think  the  history  of  the  Anglican  Commu- 
nion, since  the  era  of  her  happy  reformation,  will  be  found  richly 
illustrative  of  these  remarks.  From  her  pulpit  at  Paul's  Cross  to 
her  missionary  tents  in  India  and  Australia,  in  her  universities  and  her 
cathedrals,  in  her  schools  and  hospitals,  and  in  the  noble  works  of 
her  theologians,  and  in  the  rich  tributes  of  many  of  her  laymen  to 
her  common  treasures,  what  extraordinary  resources  have  been 
subordinated  and  sanctified  to  tlie  preaching  of  the  gospel  and  the 
puriScation  of  society,  by  the  sublime  morality  which  it  involves  ! 
In  spite  of  defects  in  the  work,  and  of  obstacles  to  its  completion, 
the  world  may  be  searched  in  vain  for  the  parallel  of  such  a 
perpetual  flood  of  blessings  as  for  three  hundred  years  has  been 
pouring  forth,  in  consequence  of  this  large  and  fertile  econo- 
my, from  the  bosom  of  our  Mother  Church  upon  her  own  imme- 
diate household,  and  through  them  upon  the  universal  family  of 
man.  But  in  renewing  the  vitality  of  the  Mother  Church  in  this 
western  world,  while  we  have  gained  some   privileges  unknown  to 


1852.]  THE   COMMEMORATION.  583 

her,  is  it  not  to  be  feared  that  we  have  lost  something  of  her  rich- 
ness and  completeness,  and  almost  of  necessity  contracted  some- 
thing that  is  meagre  from  surrounding  influences  of  sect?  I  ask 
the  question,  not  tiiat  I  would  see  the  identical  details  and  features 
of  the  Church  of  England  reproduced  in  the  widely  different  cir- 
cumstances to  which  we  must  adapt  ourselves,  but  only  to  suggest 
that  something  corresponding,  and  of  the  same  character,  though 
national  and  becoming  to  our  social  state,  is  exceedingly  desirable, 
and  daily  making  itself  felt  as  a  want.  In  a  word,  instead  of  al- 
lowing ourselves  to  be  stifled  and  cramped  by  the  cold  and  heavy 
pressure  of  surrounding  sects,  it  is  the  Church's  duty  to  break 
forth  on  the  right  hand  and  the  left,  in  her  own  free  spirit, 
and  to  impress  society  with  her  innumerable  forms  of  mercy  to 
mankind. 

It  would  be  unjust  to  the  memory  of  departed  saints,  and  quite 
as  unfair  to  living  worth,  to  insinuate  that  such  a  development  of 
our  ecclesiastical  life  is  not  already  largely  begun.  The  venerable 
prelate  who  has  just  dropped  his  patriarchal  mantle  and  rested  from 
his  labors  will  ever  deserve  grateful  mention  as  a  pioneer  in  mis- 
sionary enterprises  which  have  done  much  to  draw  out  the  zeal  and 
energies  of  our  Church  ;  and  many  others  have  labored  successfully 
to  elevate  her  theological  learning,  and  to  make  her  the  fostering 
mother  of  Christian  education  in  our  country.  Fresh  notes  of  life 
and  activity  abound  on  every  side,  in  spite  of  many  scandals  and 
discouragements  ;  and  many  are  the  apostolic  bishops,  and  parochial 
priests,  and  faithful  laymen,  who,  in  noiseless  self-devotion,  are  ex- 
tending the  influence  and  power  of  the  Church,  and  laying  foun- 
dations for  future  and  permament  good.  But  with  these  heartfelt 
tributes  to  others,  let  me  claim  that  it  was  the  peculiar  work  of  the 
departed  founder  of  this  parish  to  institute  among  us  a  high  and 
primitive  type  of  the  pastoral  ministry,  and  to  demonstrate  the  entire 
consistency  of  our  ritual  and  worship,  with  a  perfection  of  parochial 
organization  hitherto  hardly  attempted  in  our  land,  and  too  gener- 
ally despaired  of  as  impossible.  By  it  he  being  dead  yet  speaketh.  I 
am  far  from  believing  tliat  the  peculiar  characteristics  of  this  Church 
of  the  Advent,  although  furnishing  a  high  and  noble  pattern,  can 
be  universally  or  generally  adopted  at  present  in  our  connnunion. 
I  believe  that  other  parishes  must  be  worked  in  other  ways,  and 
that  wisdom  will  be  justified  of  all  her  children  in  their  several 
vocations ;  but,  as  a  pastor,  I  rejoice  that  the  Church  of  the  Advent 
exists  to  prove  what  may  be  done,  and  done  successfully,  among  us ; 
and  that  the  pure  and  holy  example  of  its  first  rector  is  before  me 
to  inspire  me  with  a  spirit  of  pastoral  devotion,  and  to  furnish  me 
with  such  a  standard  of  pastoral  fidelity  as  many  a  true-hearted 
minister  of  the  preceding  generation  has  known  only  from  the 
records  of  the   past,  and  credited,  in   large   measure,  to  the  aftec- 


524  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1852. 

tionate  imagination  of  biographers,  or  to  the  mellow  light  through 
which  we  are  fond  of  looking  back  to  primitive  antiquity. 

II.  But  in  recurring  to  my  primary  observation  upon  the  charac- 
ter of  Croswell  as  a  witness  for  the  truth,  let  me  say  that,  in  thus 
preaching  Christ  and  him  crucified  in  the  pastoral  office,  he  not 
only  preached  the  faith  of  Abel,  but  adopted  Abel's  way  of  preach- 
ing in  the  essential  point  which  wSt.  Paul  commends.  For  the  sacri- 
fice of  Abel  was  distinguished  from  that  of  Cain  not  only  in  the 
faith  which  inspired  it,  but  in  the  obedience  with  which  it  was  per- 
formed. The  institution  of  bloody  sacrifice,  and  its  celebration  by 
the  worshipper  in  the  solemn  offering  of  a  spotless  lamb,  was  in  that 
age  the  divine  ordinance  in  which  the  visible  Church  showed  forth 
her  Lord's  death  until  he  should  come.  The  faithful  observance  of 
this  divine  institution  distinguished  Abel's  religion  from  that  of  Cain, 
who  worshipped  upon  a  theory,  and  with  inventions  quite  his  own. 
Now,  our  times  are  distinguished  by  nothing  in  religion  so  much  as 
by  the  flagrancy  with  which  it  substitutes  will-worship  for  the  ordi- 
nances of  God.  Our  age  is  full  of  a  fundamental  error  with  regard 
to  Christianity ;  but  it  is  the  old  mistake  of  Cain.  Religion  is  re- 
garded as  an  idea,  as  a  sentiment,  a  philosophy  ;  but  the  gospel  is  an 
institution,  an  organized  society,  a  kingdom  —  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 
Organic  Christianity,  as  a  direct  and  historical  product  of  the  incar- 
nation, deriving  life  from  Christ  himself  through  the  Holy  Ghost, 
—  a  life  diffused  by  veins  and  arteries  through  a  body  knit  together 
by  joints  and  bands,  —  such  a  Christianity,  although  nothing  less  was 
ever  imagined  until  lately  as  answering  to  the  name,  is  absolutely 
unconceived  by  a  large  majority  of  those  who  call  themselves  Chris- 
tians in  our  enlightened  country.  Yet  this  organic  Christianity  it  is 
which  alone  has  unity  of  faith  with  the  apostles,  or  can  insure  the 
perpetuation  of  unalterable  truth  from  age  to  age.  Let  the  history 
of  religion  in  this  city  illustrate  my  remark.  In  such  a  city,  then, 
distinguished  by  many  characteristics  of  preeminent  merit,  but  iso- 
lated by  its  peculiar  sectarianism  from  the  sympathies  of  Christendom 
in  a  degree  unparalleled  by  any  other  city  which  is  called  Christian 
upon  the  earth,  it  was  Croswell's  mission  to  give  prominence  to 
that  pattern  of  the  gospel  to  which  the  times  are  so  indifterent. 
This  altar,  like  Abel's  altar,  was  set  up  in  testimony  to  the  fact  that 
Jesus  Christ  was  the  founder  of  a  family,  and  not  the  author  of 
an  idea,  or  the  doctor  of  a  system  of  morals.  In  the  same  spirit  of 
faith  it  has  been  diligently  served  day  by  day,  and  year  by  year, 
in  season  and  out  of  season,  through  good  report  and  evil  report, 
with  many  and  with  few,  always  with  the  promised  presence  of 
Christ,  till  at  last  the  good  servant  was  called  by  the  Master,  while 
his  loins  were  girded  and  his  light  burning  in  his  appointed  lot ;  and 
hy  it  he  being  dead  yet  speaketh.     No  matter  how  noiseless  his  task  : 


1852.1  THE   COMMEMOliATION.  525 

though  the  world  took  no  note  of  hnn  while  he  thus  ministered, 
the  altar  has  been  fed  with  sacrifice,  God  in  Christ  has  been  wor- 
shipped, and  he  has  been,  like  Antipas,  a  faithful  witness  in  the 
midst  of  another  Pergamos ;  and  Christ  will  use  his  ministry,  and 
make  it  fruitful  in  his  own  way.  His  sudden  but  beatified  death 
has  already  spoken  to  many  in  behalf  of  his  work,  to  whom  the 
protracted  beauty  and  purity  of  his  life  miglit  have  appealed,  year 
after  year,  in  vain. 

The  Church  of  the  Advent,  then,  was  instituted  to  survive  men, 
as  part  and  parcel  of  that  kingdom  which  was  founded  upon  a  Rock. 
It  was  not  set  up  by  an  admiring  people  for  the  display  of  a  popular 
orator,  nor  for  the  gratification  of  personal  ends  and  wishes;  but, 
with  only  a  secondary  reference  to  human  instruments,  it  was  in- 
tended to  supply  spiritual  necessities,  and  to  develop  special  faculties 
of  Christian  benevolence,  which  needed  to  be  called  forth  and  wisely 
applied.  There  was  an  emergency,  —  work  waiting  to  be  done,  — 
an  opportunity  not  to  be  lost,  —  it  would  have  been  an  injury  to  the 
Church  if  no  one  had  come  forward  to  meet  it.  In  such  circum- 
stances, Dr.  Croswell  returned  to  Boston.  Without  hostility  to 
existing  parishes,  but  leaving  to  each  its  peculiar  work,  this  parish 
began  to  fulfil  its  mission.  It  was  intended  to  perpetuate  the  daily 
pubhc  service  of  God,  and  the  supply  of  a  house  of  prayer  to  all 
people.  It  was  designed  to  unite  all  classes  in  the  brotherhood  of 
faith,  and  to  demonstrate  that  our  communion,  so  far  from  being  the 
church  of  the  rich,  is  the  place  where  the  poor  and  the  rich  may 
meet  together,  because  the  Lord  is  the  Maker  of  them  all.*  It  was 
designed  to  promote  systematic  charities,  and  to  make  them  in 
reality  gifts  to  the  altar  and  oblations  to  the  Lord.  It  aimed  to  en- 
franchise the  sacraments,  as  preachers  of  Christ  crucified,!  and  to 
legitimate  the  function  of  oral  preaching  as  the  means  of  inflaming 
Christian  worship,  and  not  the  medium  of  its  total  eclipse.  It  aimed, 
incidentally,  to  consecrate  sacred  art  and  personal  talent,  by  calling 
them  oiF  from  worldly  uses  to  adorn  the  sanctuary  and  to  elevate 
the  solemnities  of  worship.  In  entire  conformity  to  the  laws  of  the 
Church  and  the  practice  of  our  Anglican  Mother,  it  proposed  to 
enrich  the  service  at  suitable  times  with  the  heavenly  accompani- 
ment of  music,  and  with  the  introduction  of  anthems  and  choral 
responses.  These  indifferent  things,  as  occasion  might  prescribe, 
but,  at  all  events,  the  diligent  observance  of  the  festival  system  of 
the  Church,  and  the  vitalizing  of  all  its  ordinances  and  prescriptions  ; 
in  process  of  time,  the  founding  of  parochial  charities  ;  and  at  all 
times  a  careful  attention  to  the  spiritual  and  physical  wants  of  the 
needy ;  the  establishment  of  a  parish  school  and  of  an  asylum  for 
orphans,  and  many  like  institutions  of  benevolence,  were  constantly 

*  Prov.  xxii.  2.  t  1  Cor.  xi.  26. 


526  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROSWELL.  [1852. 

kept  in  view.  "  Against  such  there  is  no  law."  Who  dares  say 
aught  against  them  ?  Love  to  God  and  good  will  to  men  were,  in 
short,  the  entire  spirit  of  this  foundation,  as  they  were  preeminently 
the  spirit  of  the  founder,  from  whose  fraternal  lips,  now  cold  and 
silent  in  the  dust,  I  have  gathered  these  details  in  many  privileged 
communings.  Such  was  his  work,  and  by  it  he  being  dead  yet 
speakcth. 

But  I  speak  to  those  who  know  all  these  things  even  better  than 
I  do,  by  daily  familiarity  with  his  labors,  and  by  a  long  and  affec- 
tionate strengthening  of  his  hands  in  God.  Why  do  I  dwell  on  such 
a  review  ?  Because,  my  brethren,  they  yet  depend  upon  your 
fidelity  for  their  entire  realization.  Much  has  been  done  ;  behold 
how  much  !  When  I  compare  the  scene  before  me  with  my  first 
recollections  of  this  parish,  I  am  astonished  by  what  God  has  done 
for  you  :  and  yet  much  remains  to  be  accomplished  and  secured. 
The  mysterious  dispensation  which  called  away  your  first  pastor 
while  his  work  was  yet  in  progress  has  hallowed  it,  and  taught  you 
practical  trust  in  God,  while  it  has  demonstrated  that  the  under- 
taking does  not  depend  on  man.  God  has  provided  for  your  im- 
mediate wants  in  a  manner  so  providential  and  signal  as  to  afford 
you  every  consolation  and  encouragement.  In  the  abilities  and  in 
the  apostolic  office  of  his  successor,  you  have  marked  reason  to 
believe  that  God  is  with  you,  and  a  very  present  help  in  time  of 
trouble.  At  the  same  time,  while  the  sanctity  of  your  departed 
rector's  memory  is  a  rich  endowment,  it  is  a  perpetual  call  upon 
you  for  perseverance  and  renewed  effort.  By  it  he  being  dead  yet 
speaketh.  From  his  grave  he  bids  you  be  fruitful  in  every  good  work, 
and  exhorts  you,  by  devotion  to  this  parochial  enterprise  in  par- 
ticular, to  "  contend  earnestly  for  the  faith  once  delivered  to  the 
saints." 

III.  To  be  a  good  shepherd  is  preeminently  Christ-like ;  and 
such  a  shepherd  was  Croswell.  To  this  he  devoted  extraordinary 
gifts,  and  sacrificed  many  worldly  advantages.  The  refinement 
and  delicacy  of  his  character  are  proverbial  ;  but  not  every  one 
imagines  how  rich  were  his  mental  endowments,  how  brilliant  his 
fancy,  and  how  inventive  his  genius.  His  intellectual  qualities  were 
rare,  and  his  literary  attainments  —  poor  things  to  speak  of,  though 
the  world  values  them  —  were  elevated  in  their  range,  and  large  in 
scope.  His  critical  skill,  though  rarely  exercised,  was  happy,  and 
full  of  spirit ;  and  in  epistolary  composition  I  have  never  known 
his  superior.  As  a  sacred  poet,  his  name  is  dear  to  the  Church, 
and  will  always  be  affectionately  cherished  ;  his  verse  was  faultless, 
his  conceptions  extremely  felicitous  and  epigrammatic,  and  all  his 
productions  were  warm  with  devout  and  heavenly  aspirations.  In 
him  there  has  lived,  in  Boston,  a  man  of  genius  worthy  to  be  re- 


1852.]  Tin-:   ('i)MMEMORATION.  537 

membered  as  a  glory  to  her  civic  name,  and  one  who,  if  he  had 
studied  to  please  her  in  her  own  way,  might,  indeed,  have  been  her 
idol.  But  "  his  soul  was  like  a  star,  and  dwelt  apart :  "  he  could 
not  stoop  to  vulgar  artifices,  he  could  not  pander  to  popular  appe- 
tite ;  and  those  things  which  were  gain  to  him  he  counted  loss  for 
Christ.  To  be  a  good  pastor  to  Christ's  flock,  and  a  faithful 
steward  of  his  household  ;  to  be  a  servant  of  Christ's  poor ;  this 
was  the  aim  to  which  he  subordinated  those  things  in  himself  which 
the  world  finds  in  so  few,  and  worships  so  devotedly  where  they 
are  displayed.  Holy  man  of  God,  my  dear  departed  friend  and 
brother,  there  are  those,  nevertheless,  who  know  how  rich  and 
precious  were  the  gifts  thou  didst  consecrate  to  Christ  !  Happy 
in  thy  noble  choice,  and  sublime  in  thy  humility,  how  refreshing  is 
the  example  of  thy  life  !  and  how  harmonious,  withal,  the  opportunity 
of  thy  death  !  In  the  spot  to  thee  most  dear  and  sacred,  and  in  the 
work  most  sweet,  on  the  holy  day  and  in  the  holy  place,  thii'3  hand 
toward  the  altar,  and  the  word  of  blessing  on  thy  tongue,  —  so  the 
Master  found  thee,  so  called  thee  away  !  Good  soldier  !  thy  fight  of 
faith  was  fought,  thy  palm  of  victory  was  won  ;  "  henceforth  there  is 
laid  up  for  thee  a  crown  of  righteousness,  which  the  Lord,  the 
righteous  Judge,  shall  give  thee  at  that  day  ! " 

Reverend  father  in  God,  my  reverend  brethren,  and  you  parish- 
ioners of  the  Church  of  the  Advent,  while  he  has  been  in  paradise, 
where  they  measure  not  joys  by  time,  we  have  lived  through  another 
year  of  this  dull  earth  ;  and  here  we  are,  where  the  Master  called 
him,  drawn  together  by  the  consolations  of  Christ,  in  commemo- 
ration of  his  life  and  death !  Are  we  prepared  to  be  called  as 
suddenly  ?  Are  our  lamps,  like  his,  trimmed  and  burning  1  In  the 
epistle  *  read  this  day  at  the  eucharist,  he  seemed  to  give  us  a  mes- 
sage ;  and  even  "  by  it  he  being  dead  yet  speaketh."  If  there  is 
aught  else  to  be  added  by  mortal  tongue,  amid  associations  so 
solemn  that  the  very  wood  and  stone  around  us  seem  to  have  a 
language,  as  relics  of  his  life  and  labor,  I  will  venture  to  say  it  is 
this  —  Be  ye  also  ready,  for  at  such  time  as  ye  think  not  the  Son  of 
man  cometh. 

*  Epistle  for  the  twenty- second  Sunday  after  Trinity,  read  by  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Eaton. 


528  MEMOIR   OF  WILLIAM   CROS\yELL.  [1852. 

A   MONUMENT 

was  erected  at  the  grave  of  the  deceased,  in  the  New  Haven 
cemetery,  on  the  day  of  the  commemoration.  This  monument  is 
eight  feet  in  height,  inchiding  the  base,  and  is  beautifully  wrought 
in  pure  white  Italian  marble,*  bearing  on  the  front  the  following 
inscription :  — 

REV.   WILLIAM   CROS^VELL,   D.   D., 

RECTOR  OF  THE 

CHURCH  OF  THE  ADVENT,  BOSTON 

DIED    WOy.   IX.,  HDCCCLI., 

iiOED   SLTII. 

"FAITHFUL    TJNTO    DEATH." 

And  on  the  reverse,  — 

TRIBUTE    OF  AFFECTION. 


—  in  reference  to  the  manner  in  which  the  expense  of  the  erection 
was  provided  for  —  the  amount  having  been  offered  by  an  associa- 
tion of  ladies  among  his  friends  and  parishioners,  upon  the  altar 
of  the  Church  of  the  Advent,  on  the  anniversary  of  his  death. 

*  The  plan  of  this  monument  was  drawn,  and  the  work  executed,  by  Mr. 
Thomas  Phillips,  of  New  Haven. 


Almighty  God,  wrrn  whom  do  live  the  spirits  op 

THOSE  "WHO  DEPAE.T  HENCE  IN  THE  LoED,  AND  WITH  WHOM 
THE  SOULS  OF  THE  FAITHFUL,  AFTER  THEY  ARE  DELIVERED 
FROM  THE  BURDEN  OF  THE  FLESH,  ARE  IN  JOY  AND  FELICITY, 
WE  GIVE  THEE  HEARTY  THANKS  FOR  THE  GOOD  EXAMPLES 
OP  ALL  THOSE  THY  SERVANTS,  WHO,  HAVING  FINISHED  THEIR 
COURSE  IN  FA^TH,  DO  NOW  BEST  FROM  THELR  LABORS.  AnD 
WE  BESEECH  THEE,  THAT  WE,  WITH  ALL  THOSE  WHO  AKE 
DEPARTED  IN  THE  TRUE  FAITH  OP  THY  HOLY  NAME,  MAY 
HAVE  OUR  PERFECT  CONSUMMATION  AND  BLISS,  BOTH  LN 
BODY  AND  SOUL,  IN  THY  ETERNAL  AND  EVERLASTING  GLORY, 
THROUGH  JeSUS  ChUIST  OUB.  LoRD.      AmEN. 

[BtJKiAL  Office.] 

67 


VO' 


